Malfoys Don't Show Fear
by Obsidian Skin
Summary: "Malfoys are brave," he whispered to himself. "Malfoys do not show fear." He pulled in a shaky breath. "Malfoys do not show fear," he repeated, quieter and more unsure than the first time. –– Harry Potter wasn't the only child who grew up in an abusive home...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Buongiorno! I've decided to create this story because I'm an evil human and because I believe that there needs to be more hurt Malfoy stories out there. Sooooo… yeah. If you guys like this, I'll continue it! My goal is for it to follow Draco as he grows up. Also, it's been a while since I've read the books so some of my info may not be correct. I'll do the best I can though! Hope you guys enjoy!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Where is he?"

The closet was dark and barren, not at all being used for its intended purpose. Instead of housing cloaks and shoes, it housed a rather frail looking boy who was no more than five years of age. Said child had unbelievable pale blonde hair and lurid light blue eyes. At the best of times, the boy was bouncing about with undepletable energy and exploring the world around him with childish wonder. This, however, was not the best of times. But, while the situation was unfavorable, it was not the worst of times either. In fact, the scene taking place was one that the boy was familiar with.

"Draco!"

Draco shrank farther into the corner of the closet, finding little to no solace in the unyielding stones behind him.

"Lucius, please," begged a different voice.

"You were meant to be watching him, Narcissa," hissed Lucius.

"I know and I apologize, but he didn't mean anything by it. You know that!"

Draco hugged his knees to his chest, wrapping skinny arms around them to hold them in place.

"I could not care less about the boy's intentions. The point is that he has broken one of my rules and he will face punishment. Draco!" That last word was a shout. Draco jerked at the unconcealed vexation in his father's voice. Draco knew that the longer he hid from his father, the more intensely his father's wrath would descend upon him.

Draco choked down a painful swallow. "Malfoys are brave," he whispered to himself. "Malfoys do not show fear." He pressed his palms to the ground and used unsteady arms to lever himself onto even more unsteady legs. He stretched out a hand in the darkness and let it fall on the brass doorknob. He paused. "Malfoys do not show fear," he repeated, quieter than the first time. He twisted the handle and threw open the door before he lost his nerve.

As soon as the door was open, Draco wished he had stayed in his corner in the dark. Lucius Malfoy was striding down the poorly lit hallway, his face a picture of stony fury. Silver blonde hair whipped backwards from the force and speed of Lucius' stride. Each footfall branded the floor with red hot malice as the men and women in the photographs that decorated the walls fled their frames, seeking solace in a safer part of the house.

Poor Draco feared that his heart might leap from the confines of his chest and fly ten feet away. But no matter how terrified he was of the man rapidly approaching, Draco did not move, for to flee would be to asking to be put in The Box.

Draco had to crane his neck back as suddenly his father was towering over him. Despite the family mantra repeating on loop in his brain, Draco couldn't quite help showing fear in the face of his father's anger. His hands began to shake and his breathing rate became quicker as he took shorter breaths.

"Father, I–" Draco was silenced almost immediately as Lucius raised his ever present cane and struck the silver head of the serpent across his son's cheek.

"I am not raising you to be insolent. I am not raising you to be impolite. I am _not_ raising you embarrass me in front of esteemed colleagues!" Each sentence was punctuated with another blow from the cane. After the last blow fell, Draco kept his head turned toward the ground, not wanting his father to see the tears that were pooling in his eyes.

Lucius had other ideas. He bent down to Draco's level and grabbed his son's chin in a firm grasp and yanked the boy's head up to face him. His lip curled in disgust as he saw the tears threatening to cascade down Draco's now red cheeks.

"I made rules for you and I expect you to respect them and abide by them." Lucius's voice had taken on a low, smooth quality. "Do you understand me, Draco?"

Draco was too stunned by the pain in his cheeks and the additional pain of Lucius's fingernails digging into his chin to answer. Lucius released Draco's chin in favor of slapping his hand across his already inflamed cheek. Instantly he reassumed hold of his son's chin. "I said, do you understand?" His voice had become deadly.

"Yes, sir," Draco choked past the pain rising in his throat. Lucius shoved the boy away. "Away from me, child."

Draco didn't have to be told twice.

He fled past Lucius down the hall and upon reaching the end, took an immediate right. He was thankful that he knew every twist and turn of the Manor by heart because hot tears crowded his vision. All he could see was blurred color streaking by as he ran. He saw the bright orange of flames as they danced on the wicks of candles. Deep burgundy mixed with burnt orange as the fading light of the sunset struggled through the window panes and barely illuminated the heavy curtains.

But most importantly he saw the milky paleness of his mother's skin as her hands reached for her wounded son.

"Draco," she called softly, but he paid her words no heed and pressed on. He didn't stop running until he had reached a sparse room. It contained nothing more than a bed, a large mahogany wardrobe, and a small chest at the foot of the bed. This was Draco's room.

Draco climbed on the bed and buried his throbbing face into the ridiculously soft pillows. He payed no attention to the fact that the coverings on his pillows only served to chafe his sore cheeks. What was a little more pain added into the mixture?

Once Draco felt that he had no more tears left to cry, he flipped onto his back and stared up at the unadorned ceiling. He thought back on his day and wondered how one little accident had incurred such a wrath in his father.

The day had started off well enough: he had breakfast with his parents and told his mom all the things he had planned to do that day. She had smiled and told him to finish his tea before his adventures began. He had had his morning conversations with deceased family members captured in photographs (his favorite was his great grandmother Maudie).

He followed the Malfoy house elf, Dobby, around as the little elf went about his daily list of chores. Draco talked on and on about anything that came to mind. Dobby was used to the young Malfoy accompanying him as he completed his tasks. In fact, he quite enjoyed the child's playful rambling.

Narcissa had called Draco away for lunch and Draco had bid Dobby farewell. Narcissa and Draco had a simple lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches; Lucius had not joined them. After lunch was Draco's appointed "outdoor time" in which he was allowed to roam the grounds of Malfoy Manor granted that he stay where his mum could see him.

Today, Draco had chosen to explore his mother's garden. Narcissa wasn't one to get her hands dirty but gardening was a guilty pleasure of hers. She said it always made her feel united with the world's energy. Draco didn't know what that meant but he never asked her to explain.

Draco had played Defend the Garden, a game which he had just made up. He pretended that there were giant trolls and evil goblins wanting to come and steal his mother's flowers.

He had been enjoying himself so much that he barely noticed when the sun began sink towards the tree line. The only time he stopped playing was when his tummy had given a loud grumble, signaling that it was time for him to eat. Just as he had been about to go inside, a flash of color caught his eye. He turned and saw a beautiful butterfly that's wings were striking shades of violet and turquoise. Draco had never seen such a pretty butterfly before.

He had been determined to catch it. He had waited for it to descend upon one of the many sweet smelling flowers before he snuck up behind it and trapped it, remembering to be gentle, between his hands. He had given a squeal of delight and had charged inside, heading straight for his father's study, insistent on sharing his discovery with him.

He had burst through the door, blue eyes glowing with delight. "Father! Father look what I–"

Draco had dug his heels into the ground and brought himself to a sudden stop. Looking down at him was not just the face of his father, but also of roughly ten other men.

Draco had locked eyes with his father and had instantly felt the blood drain from his face, realizing his mistake. He had broken his father's rule by forgetting to knock before he entered the study. He had just been so excited to share his discovery that he had completely forgotten about the rule.

Draco's hands had gone limp and the butterfly escaped his clutches and had taken off through the open window. Draco had backed out of the room quickly and had dashed for a hiding place that was far, far away from the study.

Draco turned onto his side and brought his knees up to his chest. He had just wanted to show his father the butterfly…

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review and let me know if you want me to continue! All the love calming hugs!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hey guys! I've decided to continue with this story. Thanks to my reviewers and followers; you guys are the reason this story is still alive. **Rinky1991** nailed where I had planned to go with this story if people enjoyed it. Hope you guys enjoy this next chapter! If there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Eight year old Draco tugged at his stiff tie, pulling the knot away from his throat. Almost immediately, Narcissa's hands reached down and directed the knot back into its original taut position.

"Muuuuuum," Draco whined, "it's too tight." Narcissa ran a gentle hand over Draco's hair, smoothing his blonde wisps into submission. "Stop your whining, dear," she berated good-naturedly.

Draco huffed though his nose as Narcissa continued fussing over her son's appearance; straightening his hair, brushing nonexistent dirt from his nose. "Stop it, Mum," he squealed as Narcissa tried to tuck in his already immaculately tucked shirt. The Malfoy matron straightened up and trained a keen eye on her son, examining her handiwork.

Despite the scowl that had overtaken Draco's face, Narcissa couldn't help but smile. "You look very handsome, Draco," she said warmly, feeling laughter bubble insider her chest as the tips of the boy's ears turned rosy.

"Now, Draco," said Narcissa as she knelt to her son's level, "it is of the utmost importance that you are on your best behavior tonight." She reached out to adjust Draco's tie that he had once again pulled loose, but Draco skittered back a few steps to avoid her grasp. Narcissa let her hand fall and sank back on her heels. "Your father hasn't seen his parents for many years and they are looking forward to meeting you."

"But why do I have to wear my nice clothes?" Draco complained. "Why can't I just wear my normal clothing?"

Narcissa sighed. She'd been fighting this battle with her child all day. It was enough of a victory that he was even wearing the clothes.

"You want to make a good first impression on your grandparents, don't you?" Narcissa reminded, repeating this phrase for the nth time that day. Draco scratched at his neck and sighed forlornly. "I guess," he finally conceded. Narcissa rewarded him with a smile. "There, now. Thank you, my little dragon."

Draco smiled sheepishly up at his mother. An idea suddenly sparked in Draco's ever racing mind. "Mum?" He started excitedly. "Can I show Grandma and Grandpa my leaf collection? I've added some new ones since I showed it to you last!" Draco was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to go and bring his mother his collection so that he could show her his new additions.

Narcissa's heart swelled unexpectedly. Her little boy, so full of excitement and wanting nothing more that to share his innocuous vision of the world with everyone he met.

"I think that's a lovely idea, Draco–" An animated smile began to dominate Draco's face.

"–but perhaps we could save it for another time." The elation in the boy's face drained quickly. Narcissa's previously full heart ached for her son. She hadn't meant to trample his joy. She only wanted to spare him the tongue lashing he would receive from Lucius if the leaf collection made an appearance.

"Oh," moped Draco, his lurid blue eyes hiding beneath pale lashes. "Alright then."

Narcissa inhaled deeply as she pushed herself back up onto her feet. "How about we go and wait for your grandparents to arrive, hm? They should be here any moment now."

Draco peered up at his mother, pale lashes fluttering. "How will they be arriving, Mum?" Narcissa began her walk to the front room, trusting Draco to follow her, which he did. "Your father says that they will be traveling by way of a car. Why they chose to arrive by car is beyond me. The floo would certainly be much quicker."

No sooner had the words left Narcissa's mouth when there was unexpected roar from the direction of Lucius' study. It was a familiar roar; it was the roar of someone who had arrived via the floo.

"Ah, Mother!" Came Lucius' jovial voice. "I thought that you were arriving by car. Had I known you were going to appear in my fireplace, I would have cleaned it a little for you."

"Oh please, Lucius. You and I both know that you have never once cleaned anything in your life," came a sour, high-pitched voice from the study.

"Caught me there, Mother, caught me there. Father! You're looking well. Is that a new cane? Whatever happened to your last one? I did so admire that cane…"

"Bah. That old thing broke as I was cracking it over the back of one of the house elves. Best way to lay that cane to rest, if you ask me." Down the hall floated the strong voice of man that Draco assumed to be his grandfather.

The atmosphere was suddenly filled with laughter from the three Malfoys in the study. Draco looked up at his mom. "Is that them?"

Narcissa didn't answer. She instead began to stride purposefully towards her husband's study. Draco tripped over his dress robe in his hurry to follow his mother. He stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance and scurried to catch up. He hid behind Narcissa's tall and slender frame as she knocked firmly on the door to the study.

Draco could hear the voices of his grandparents inside as a single set of footsteps, that he recognized as his father's, approached the door. Seconds later, the double cherry wood doors swung in and open to reveal Lucius Malfoy.

"Ah!" He cried, unusually cheerful. "Come in, darling," he said as he stepped to the side to grant Narcissa passage. He gestured grandly at the two persons stood in front of the fireplace. "You remember my parents, don't you?"

Draco peeked around his mother for his first look at his grandparents. Mrs. Malfoy was tall; Draco estimated that she had to be at least 175 cm. She wore part of her argentite hair coiled in a bun at the crown of her head. The rest reached down in soft tendrils that only just brushed her shoulders. Her face was full of wrinkles, but not the ugly kind. It was filled by the kind that was born of laughter and smiles. Draco liked her immediately.

Mr. Malfoy was quite tall, also. Draco guessed that he stood well over 180 cm. He was exceptionally well toned for his age. Draco could only tell because his grandfather had already removed his cloak and suit jacket, which only left him clothed in his dress shirt. Mr. Malfoy had wrinkles on his face also, but they weren't the kind ones that Mrs. Malfoy had. His were the ugly kind, the ones wrought from hours and hours of frowning and scowling.

Mr. Malfoy's hair was the same shade of silver that his wife's was; he wore his just as Draco's father did: long and straight back. The only difference was that Draco's grandfather had his pulled back into a low ponytail.

Draco gasped lightly as suddenly his grandfather's ice blue eyes found Draco's own. Draco quickly ducked back behind his mother again.

"Now that is not a proper way to greet your grandparents, young man," rang out Mr. Malfoy's bold voice. Draco scooted closer towards his mother. He risked a glance at his father and saw a spark of malice glint in his eyes.

Draco swallowed hard then forced his feet to carry him out from behind his mother. He stood out in the open, beneath the scrutinizing eyes of four adults. He felt his heart smashing up against the confines of his ribs and felt sick to his stomach. Why was no one saying anything? Was _he_ supposed to say something?

Draco opened his mouth, not quite sure what he was going to say but prepared to say something anyways. He was saved from uttering what was working up to be a rather stupid comment by his grandmother speaking instead.

"You must be Draco," she said warmly, as a smile began to spread across her face. Draco closed his mouth and nodded in response, but didn't say anything. Lucius cleared his throat softly. "Yes, ma'am," Draco squeaked instantly.

"It saddens me to say that I don't know much about you. Your wretch of a father rarely writes me these days." Mrs. Malfoy smiled ruefully at Lucius.

"I'm Adelyn, child, but you may call me Addy or Granna if you like," she said, turning back to Draco. Draco gave his Granna a genuine smile. "Pleased to meet you, Granna."

Adelyn's smile widened to match her grandson's. "And this," she said elbowing her husband, "is your grandfather Abraxas Malfoy."

"How do you do, sir?" Draco extended a small hand to his grandfather. Abraxas took the child's hand in his own and shook it firmly. Draco did his best to reciprocate the strength with which Abraxas gripped his hand but Draco never had been a strong child. Abraxas's right eyebrow scaled his forehead.

"We'll have to work on that handshake of yours, boy," he said with a scoff, his disgust just barely contained.

Draco's ears reddened and he quickly let go of his grandfather's hand. Draco didn't dare look at his father, for he knew that all he would see would be disappointment and disdain. Instead, he retreated to stand beside his mother and turned his eyes to the sand colored rug under his feet.

"Draco," came his father's low voice. Draco quickly met his father's eyes before returning his gaze to the rug. "Yes, father?" He mumbled. Instantly, he mentally kicked himself. He knew the words that were going to come from his father's mouth before they were spoken.

"Do no mutter, Draco. Muttering is for cowards and you, Draco, are no coward. Am I correct?" Lucius sneered. Draco nodded promptly. "Answer me, Draco," demanded Lucius. Draco's head shot up and he answered automatically, "Yes, father."

"Excellent," replied Lucius coldly. "Do us a favor, Draco, and fetch the tea tray."

"Yes, father," Draco responded as he turned to exit the room. It was the voice of his grandmother that stopped him. "Oh come now, Lucius," scoffed Adelyn. "Have you or have you not a house elf who is competent enough to bring the tea?"

Lucius snorted softly as he crossed to sit in his large cushioned chair behind his desk. "Of course I do, Mother, but Draco is also quite capable of bringing tea. And if I remember correctly," he said as he leaned back in his chair, "Draco is my son and he does as I say, not as you say. So if I say Draco brings the tea, then Draco brings the tea."

Lucius folded his hands under his chin as Abraxas laughed heartily. "That's my boy," he proclaimed proudly. Lucius's lips pulled into a cold smile. Adelyn's face melted into a picture of disappointment and hurt.

Draco scurried from the room, tripping slightly over his robe, and made a beeline for the kitchen. In the expansive kitchen, it took Draco a moment to find Dobby, who was in one of many cupboards collecting ingredients for supper.

"Dobby?" Asked Draco softly, not wanting to startle the creature. Dobby backed out of the cupboard and looked up into the face of the young Malfoy.

"Master Malfoy!" chirped Dobby. "What can Dobby do for you?" He asked kindly. Draco smiled, he couldn't help it; he had a special spot for Dobby. "Dobby, could you make me a tea tray, please?"

Dobby's eyes lit up, pleased to be able to help. "Of course, Master Malfoy! Dobby will make the finest tea tray Master Malfoy will have ever played eyes on."

Draco giggled as the house elf set about quickly preparing the "finest" tea tray. As Dobby presented the finished product to Draco, the boy smiled. Dobby had included a plate of Draco's favorite tea treat: cherry tarts. Draco hoped that the tarts would make his grandmother as happy as they made him.

With a quick thank you to Dobby, Draco carefully lifted the tray and began his trek back to the study. Draco bit his lip in concentration as he focused all attention into safely transporting the tray. He pushed open one of the heavy doors with his foot and entered into the study. He glanced up momentarily and saw that his grandparents had taken up residence in the matching tall-backed chairs beside the fireplace.

His grandfather was engaged in a conversation with Lucius about how "incompetent the Ministry was becoming". So instead of interrupting their conversation, Draco opted for approaching his grandmother with the tray first.

Then, just as Draco was only a few paces away from his Granna, the worst thing he could imagine happened. His robe swept under his foot as he was setting his heel down. Draco tripped forward and the contents of the tray went flying. The cherry tarts flew up into the air and came raining down on top of Adelyn's head. The saucers and cups tumbled towards the ground and shattered on the grey stone.

Worst of all, the tea pot's lid flipped open and its hot contents spilled onto Adelyn's legs and feet. Adelyn's gave a small scream as the liquid burned her skin. Draco dropped the empty tray, horrified by the mess and pain he had caused.

"Granna, I–I– I'm," stuttered Draco helplessly. Narcissa rushed past her son and helped her mother-in-law out of her chair.

"Are you alright, Addy?" Inquired Narcissa worriedly. Adelyn laughed breathlessly. "Oh, yes, I'm quite alright dear. Just startled is all," she replied carelessly. She turned her eyes to her grandson. "Are you alright, Draco?"

Draco felt tears welling up in his eyes. "I–I–I," was all he could manage.

"Oh don't cry! It was an accident," assured Granna. Draco shook his head in denial. His first time meeting his only grandmother and he had managed to injure and humiliate her. Draco felt himself starting to shake. He turned to look behind him and saw exactly what he had imagined: Lucius bearing down on him with animosity leaking from his very pores. Draco skittered back a few steps but he wasn't quick enough.

Lucius reached out a hand and snatched up the collar of Draco's robe.

"Lucius, unhand that boy!" Cried Adelyn.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," growled Lucius, "Draco is _my_ son and I will do with him as I please!"

Draco choked out a sob, terrified of the pure, undiluted ire in Lucius's voice.

"Lucius, please!" Begged Narcissa. Lucius aimed a pointed finger at Narcissa as he roared, " _Silence_!"

Narcissa set her jaw and quietly led Adelyn from the room, leaving only Abraxas, Lucius, and Draco in the room.

"Father, please, I–"

Lucius was having none of it. Keeping his hand firmly twisted in the fabric of Draco's robe, he dragged his son from the room, through many hallways, down a flight of stairs. Draco knew exactly where they were going.

He tried to dig his heels into the floorboards. He tried to un-fist Lucius's hand from his robe. He even tried begging with his father, but all to no avail. Lucius finally came to a halt as they reached a dead end to one of the hallways. At the end of the hallway, pressed flush against the wall, was a tall metal box that should floor to ceiling. It's heavy door stood ajar but Draco couldn't see the back of the container.

"Would like to enter by yourself or shall I put you in?" Lucius asked coldly. He released Draco's collar and gave him a shove towards the box. Draco felt tears racing down his cheeks as he stepped into the box.

The Box was where Lucius put Draco when the boy had done something that Lucius viewed as outrageous. The first time Draco was placed in the Box, he had been four. He had broken a crystal ash tray that had been passed down through generations and generations of Malfoys.

The Box was the reason that Draco had developed a fear of small and enclosed spaces. He could voluntarily place himself in them if need be but he never enjoyed it.

Draco held his breath as Lucius shoved the door to the Box closed. He listened as the three heavy bolts were shifted into place. It wasn't until he heard his father's footsteps receding that he allowed himself to let loose a barrage of gut-wrenching sobs. He slid down the wall of the Box and whispered between gasps, "Malfoys are brave. Malfoys don't show fear."

Why couldn't he ever do anything right?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! All the love marshmallows!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Heyoooo! New chapter! As always, thanks to my reviewers and followers; this story wouldn't exist without out you. **IMPORTANT** : In the previous chapter Lucius's father's name was Elex. I named him the cause I neglected to do any research. So I was poking around today and HP Wikia says that his father's name is Abraxas? So I went back and changed that in the previous chapter. From here on out Draco's grandfather's name is **ABRAXAS MALFOY**. Like I said las time: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Draco swatted at a fly that had been trying to force its way into any orifice in his face for the better part of an hour. Draco started slightly as a slender hand took hold of his own and gently guided it down to his side. He looked up and was met with the chastising stare of his mother. Narcissa didn't need to say anything; Draco understood perfectly.

He relaxed his hands by his side and subdued a flinch as the fly landed on his cheek and began crawling about. It was a muggy day in early June. Draco stood between his parents; the family was standing on the bright green grass outside of the family crypt. They were surrounded by the few remaining members of the Malfoy family. Standing to the right of Draco was Lucius, and to the right of Lucius stood Adelyn Malfoy.

Abraxas Malfoy had passed only a few days ago. No one had been expecting it, but no one seemed truly heartbroken to see him go. The only ones affected by his death were his wife and his son. Lucius was maintaining a stony expression, his lips pressed tightly together, but it was clear to Draco that he was suppressing his grief.

Adelyn was more open and forward with her sorrow. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks and she didn't bother wiping them away. She clutched her son's arm tightly, desperate for the support to keep standing.

After all that Abraxas had done and had lived through, he was taken down by a mere heart attack. Draco didn't feel grief over the passing of his grandfather; every time he saw the man, he had found something about Draco to scoff about. The two Malfoys had never been fond of each other.

Draco sneezed suddenly as the fly crawled into one of his nostrils and tickled the delicate hairs. Lucius shot a death glare at his son, and Draco belatedly clapped a hand over his nose and mouth. Lucius raised his eyes to the heavens as if asking for help before returning his attention to the funeral officiant.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Once the funeral was over, and Grandpa Malfoy was safely in the crypt, Draco had given Granna one last hug before he was dragged away by his father. As soon as they had arrived home, Lucius had disappeared into his study without a word to Narcissa or Draco.

Draco hung his cloak in the hall closet, placed his boots on the floor, and shut the door.

"Is Father going to be okay?" The eleven year old asked his mother, genuinely concerned for his father's wellbeing. Narcissa sent a lugubrious look in the direction Lucius had retreated. "Eventually, sweetheart." She smiled reassuringly down at her son. "Just give him time, alright?"

Draco nodded. Narcissa reached out her arms and pulled her son close, squeezing him tight to her lithe form. Draco draped his arms around his mother's waist and matched her squeeze. Narcissa stroked her hand through her son's soft blonde hair. Giving one last squeeze, she released Draco and stepped back.

"How about you go and busy yourself with some reading?" She suggested. "Dinner will be prepared soon."

Draco nodded and headed for the manor's expansive library. Draco had passed many afternoons reading book after book in the library, burrowed into the corner of one of libraries cushy sofas. Draco entered the library, picked out a new book to read, and settled himself into his usual corner of the sofa.

The golden streams of the setting sun had long since disappeared by the time he had finished his book. Draco yawned and gently shut the leather bound book. The second the book was closed, Draco gave a sharp yelp for there, standing no more than a foot away from him, was Dobby. The little house elf echoed Draco's yelp and nervously covered his large ears.

"Dobby! You scared me," Draco gasped. Dobby released his ears in favor of wringing his wrinkly fingers. "Dobby is sorry. Dobby didn't mean to scare Master Draco," he whimpered softly. Draco uncurled himself from the corner of the couch and set his feet on the floor.

"That's alright, Dobby," Draco assured, taking compassion on the clearly timid elf. "Did you need something?"

Dobby shuffled his feet, the tips of his ears drooping towards the ground. Draco frowned; Dobby's ears only drooped when he thought he had done something wrong or when he was bringing bad news.

"What's wrong, Dobby?" Demanded Draco. Dobby's vivid green eyes looked anywhere but Draco's face. "Dobby…"

"Master Malfoy would like to see you in his study," Dobby finally squeaked out. Draco instantly felt fear welling up in his chest. His father very rarely asked to see him in his study. "Did he…," Draco swallowed hard, "Did he say what he wanted?"

Dobby's hand-wringing intensified. He shook his head pitifully shuffled back a few steps, as if his lack of information would result in harm. Draco sighed. "That's alright, Dobby," Draco comforted the anxious creature. "I guess I'll just find out for myself." Draco meant for his words to be accompanied by slightly jovial tone. Instead they came out sounding just as unsure and uncertain as he felt.

Dobby nodded quickly and then blinked out of sight. Draco inhaled a deep breath to brace himself and pushed up onto his feet. He left the library and let his legs carry him towards his father's study.

"It could be nothing," Draco whispered to himself. "Maybe he just wants to talk… talk about Grandpa. Yeah, that's it. He wants to share memories with me." He didn't believe himself for one instant. Finally, he stopped outside of the double mahogany doors of his father's study. He lifted a fist to knock.

"Malfoy's are brave," he said softly to himself. "Malfoy's don't show fear." Draco rapped sharply four times on the doors.

There was a moment of silence before a sloppy, "Come in," rang out. Draco closed his eyes. Drunk. His father was drunk.

He placed his hands on door handle and pushed inward. The heavy door swung open and Draco stepped inside, putting his weight against the door to close it. Draco frowned when he saw that his father wasn't sitting in any of the chairs in the study. He had instead taken up residence on the floor, leaning against his sturdy desk, facing the welcome heat of the fire in the hearth.

Draco inhaled sharply as he saw three empty crystal decanters lying on the floor next to Lucius. What disturbed Draco even more was the half-empty fourth bottle that Lucius held in his hand.

Lucius was unpredictable enough when he was sober. But when he was drunk out of his mind…

"You wanted to see me, Father?" Draco asked loudly. Lucius lifted the heavy glass, drank heavily, then turned to look at his son.

"He never liked you, you know?"

Draco frowned. "Pardon?"

Lucius stared into the frolicking flames. "He used to tell me that to be a Malfoy was a privilege. That Malfoys are proud wizards, that we are proud pure-bloods." He paused to take another pull from the decanter. "He was constantly stressing how the Malfoy name must be preserved. He went on and on and on," Lucius spat bitterly, "about how we should act."

Draco gathered on his own that the "he" his father kept referring to was Draco's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy.

"Malfoys must be leaders, never followers. Malfoys are brave, not pansies. Malfoys are strong and never weak!" Lucius hurled his bottle into the flames and Draco flinched as it shattered, its contents giving rise to the flames.

Draco was scared that the flames were going to leap from the hearth and into the room, but they receded after an intense moment.

The young Malfoy's heart was still going a mile a minute at the sudden outburst.

"He was so proud of me; said that I was worthy of the Malfoy name," Lucius whispered. "And I believed him." Lucius turned vacant eyes on his son. Draco swallowed heavily. "I am worthy of the Malfoy name."

"Of course you are, Father," Draco replied, hoping his father would turn away his empty stare.

"But you," Lucius pointed a shaky finger at him, "you are not worthy."

Draco didn't know what to say. "When you were born, your grandfather was thrilled that I managed to have a son to carry on the exalted Malfoy name," continued Lucius. "I was thrilled also. That is, until you started to grow up."

Lucius pressed his feet flat on the floor and, using the desk behind him, pushed himself into a standing position. He staggered a few steps towards his son. Draco tried to back away, but was struck with the realization that he was still leaning against the door. He had no where to retreat.

"I wanted a son who knew what he wanted and would do whatever it took to get it. I wanted a son who showed a strong advantage in the ways of magic. I wanted a son that I could _be proud of_!" Spit was flying from Lucius's lips. Draco's heartbeat drummed loudly in his ears.

Lucius stopped his advance a few feet away from Draco. He stared at his son with utter and complete contempt. "And instead I have you."

Draco felt the familiar lump in his throat that signaled that tears were well on their way. He clenched his jaw and forced the lump down. He would not cry. He was eleven years old, for god's sake.

"You are not a leader," Lucius staggered forward a single step. "You are not brave. And you most certainly are not strong." With each sentence, Lucius advanced another step. "You are not worthy to be a Malfoy," he hissed vexatiously. Just as Draco thought he heart could not pump any harder, his father reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand.

"You are not worthy to be my son," Lucius said as he aimed the tip of his wand at Draco.

"Father, please, I–"

"Crucio!"

Draco's mouth stretched wide but no sound came out. His joints were filled with a fire so hot, he was sure he would melt. His bones were splitting and cracking under his skin, which Draco was sure was being pierced by a million jagged shards of glass.

He felt his knees give way beneath him, but he never felt himself hit the ground. He flopped onto his back as his muscles began to contract and spasm, making his head slam against the ground and his hands and feet smack the floor relentlessly.

He couldn't breath until suddenly –– he could. He panted quickly, desperate to inflate his lungs with air yet not quite able to.

It was then that tears did fall from Draco's eyes. Through the haze, he could see his father looming over him, his wand still poised.

Just as Draco felt he was regaining his breath, Lucius cried, " _Crucio_!", and Draco's world was once again submerged in pain. This time, Draco did scream: loud and filled of every ounce of anguish he felt.

Darkness was beginning to encroach upon his vision the longer that Lucius maintained the spell. Then, just as Draco felt his senses slipping away, he was saved by a scream. But it wasn't his scream. It was his mother's.

Narcissa had entered the study undetected by Draco, who had been too preoccupied by the pain overwhelming his body.

Narcissa yanked the wand from Lucius's hand and tossed it to the other side of the study. "Lucius, how could you?!" She shrieked, dropping to her knees beside the supine from of her son.

"It's what he deserves," slurred Lucius. Draco didn't see the intensely malicious looks exchanged between his parents as his eyes slipped closed and he shifted into a state of unconsciousness.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! If there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me! All the love and french fries!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** 1\. I apologize for how long it took me to write this chapter. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to happen. I would get ideas and then I would forget them and then I would get new ones and then I didn't like them –– it was a mess. But it's finally here! For here on out, the story will (hopefully) be continuous, without the three year skips. As always: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Albus, you can't possibly–"

"What other choice do we have, Minerva? It's nearing the end of term and we're running out of options."

"What about the Weasleys? He seems to have good friends with them already, hasn't he?"

"No. Not the Weasleys. They have enough children to look after as it is, bless them."

"How about Granger then?"

"A viable option, but they wouldn't be able to protect him the way that a wizarding family would. Minerva–"

"This is lunacy! What's wrong with where he is now?"

"His position may have been compromised. You know Voldemort's followers are still out there."

"Which is precisely the reason why this notion of yours could only have been born of asininity, Albus!"

"There are no other candidates, Minerva. I dislike this as much as you do, if not more. From what I understand, he'll have little to no contact with the boy's father."

"Alright, Albus. But the moment something seems off, he goes straight back, understood?"

"We can agree on that, Minerva."

"Good. Now, will you them or shall I?"

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Pair up and intermingle houses!"

Groans and sounds of overall displeasure at the command rose throughout the room. Professor Snape spun around, his black robe billowing threateningly.

" _Silence_ ," he spoke, his low voice enough to extinguish all noise. "Pick your partner or I shall have to do it for you."

That lit a fire under the students' bottoms. Gryffindors and Slytherins quickly set about picking a partner that they felt they could at least tolerate for the duration of the Potions lesson.

Harry looked around for any Slytherins who hadn't already grabbed a partner. Each Slytherin he approached was either already paired or was grabbed by a Gryffindor at that exact moment.

Harry was prepared to complete the assignment along when he spotted a student sitting sitting at a desk all by himself. Harry's chin dropped down to his chest.

Why did the universe hate him? Snapping his head up, he squared his shoulders and strode over to the boy.

"Do you have a partner?" He asked shortly.

Draco looked up from his textbook. Upon seeing who was talking to him, he pasted on a sneer. "Do you?" He responded just as shortly. Harry set his jaw and dropped his book onto Draco's desk. He took a seat next to the pale-haired boy and said nothing.

Draco looked back down at his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions,_ gathering the information he and Harry would need to prepare a Hiccoughing Potion.

The young Malfoy glanced over at his partner, who was furiously flipping through the pages trying to find the one he needed.

"Page 27, Potter," he offered. Harry cut him a quick side eye before flicking backwards to page 27. Draco quirked an eyebrow as the slightest hint of disbelief flashed across Harry's face. It was almost as if Harry had been expecting Draco to lie to him. Which, to be fair, had crossed Draco's mind.

It's not that Draco hated Harry. It was just that Draco had a tendency to be a bit competitive. Oh alright: _very_ competitive. There was something about Harry Potter that brought out the worst in Draco. Perhaps it was because everyone knew his name. Maybe it was because every person that Harry met seemed to take an instant liking to him. Well, expect for Snape it seemed.

Draco was never good at making friends. Whenever he introduced himself as Draco Malfoy, people would tend to shy away or distance themselves. It was Draco's speculation that it was because of his family name: Malfoy. Apparently, Draco descended from a long line of "evil-doers" and people had already branded him, in their minds, that he was no different.

Draco didn't know what Harry knew about his family, but it seemed that Harry had made some assumptions of his own. He and Harry had gotten off to a rough start and from there on in, they had become something akin to enemies. Draco didn't like having enemies. Having enemies meant arguing (which Draco hated), fights (which Draco also hated), and either physical or mental pain (which Draco hated the most).

He tried to be friends with Harry, he really did. But his gestures always came across as cold or unkind. So he stopped trying. If Harry wanted to be friends, or simply cease to be enemies, then he would have to make the move.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The remainder of the school year passed quickly. By the end of term, Draco was more than ready to go home. Over the course of the year, Draco had discovered that not only was he disliked by students in other houses, he was also disliked by the students in his own house. Draco couldn't count how many times he had been hexed (accidentally or on purpose [mostly on purpose]) by the Slytherin first years.

What had he done to any of them?

But being hexed wasn't even the worst thing that had happened that year. Draco had been given detention for tattling to McGonagall that Hagrid had been harboring a dragon in his hut. McGonagall had not only given him detention, but he had had to spend that detention with Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

They had all gone down to serve their detention with Hagrid and had ended up going into the Forbidden Forest. Their task was to find a wounded unicorn; rubbish if you asked Draco. There were better things he would rather be doing with his time. But what they had found in the Forest only served to increase Draco's fear of menacing woodland. They had split into groups: Hagrid took Weasley and Granger while Draco went with Harry and Hagrid's mutt of a boarhound.

It had been Harry and Draco who had found the unicorn, but it wasn't wounded: it was dead. It hadn't died of its wounds. Oh no. It had been killed by the wraith-like creature that had been drinking deeply from a gash in the unicorn's neck. Draco took one look at the lustrous blood cascading down the creature's chin and took off running in the opposite direction.

He had berated himself about it later. He must've looked like a coward, running at the first sight of danger. And to do it in front of Potter? Ugh. He'd never live it down.

But the real cherry on top of his first year at Hogwarts was being called into Dumbledore's office on the last day of term.

He was escorted to the entrance by his godfather, Severus Snape. Snape did not enter the headmaster's office with Draco. He had issued the password to the magnificent stone gargoyle that guarded the steps to Dumbledores office, made sure that Draco began his ascent, and then disappeared the way he had come.

Draco had stepped into the office, overwhelmed by all there was to see. His eyes darted left and right, up and down, quickly and slowly. His ogling was cut short by a voice calling out, "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you for joining us."

Draco frowned. Us?

He trained his eyes on the direction the voice had come from and, sure enough, there was not one figure sitting there but two. Draco inhaled deeply. The other participant didn't even have to turn around; Draco would recognize that mop of unkept hair anywhere.

"Mr. Potter and I were just discussing his first year here," said Dumbledore with a smile. "What about you, Draco? Have you enjoyed your first year?"

Draco put on his pleasant face and smiled back. "Yes, sir," was all he said. Dumbledore's smile widened. "Excellent, excellent," he said merrily. "Sit, won't you?" He gestured to a chair adjacent to Harry. Draco crossed to the chair quickly and sat down, not once looking at Harry.

"Now I'm sure you are both wondering why I've called you here on the last day. And before you ask, no, you are not in trouble."

Draco saw a bit of tension drain from Potter's shoulders. Draco turned his focus back to the headmaster.

"I do not wish to alarm either of you, but this needs to be brought to your attention." The merriment had faded from Dumbledore's eyes and his tone had become quite serious. The elderly man folded his hands and rested them on the surface of his desk.

"What do you two know of Death Eaters?"

Draco knew that Dumbledore had addressed the question to both of them to be polite. Draco knew that Dumbledore knew that Draco knew that Dumbledore knew that Draco's father had been a Death Eater when You-Know-Who had been alive.

Draco answered Professor Dumbledore's question with a simple nod. Harry, on the other hand, was utterly confused. "What's a Death Eater, sir?"

"They're You-Know-Who's henchmen," Draco responded before Dumbledore could get a word out. Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Death Eaters are those who worked for Voldemort. Many of them were taking to the wizarding prison, Azkaban," Dumbledore expounded. "But there were those who escaped punishment."

"You mean there are still Death Eaters out there?" Exclaimed Harry. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. Harry expelled a long breath. "Okay, but what's that got to do with me and Malfoy?"

"Harry we placed you in the care of your relatives in the hopes that you would be safe with them. And for the past ten years, you have been," Dumbledore responded.

"What are you saying?" Harry interrupted. "Are you saying that I'm not safe at the Dursleys anymore?"

Dumbledore nodded again. "I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm saying. There was a sighting of one of Voldemort's Death Eaters in Little Whinging. They were spotted not far from your house, Harry."

Harry sank back in his chair, looking very small. "Were they looking for me?" He asked quietly. Dumbledore sighed. "We don't know. But what we do know is that until further notice, it is not safe for you to return to your relatives' house."

Harry nodded his understanding. "What about the Dursleys?" He shot back up in his chair, an anxious expression dominating his features. Draco snorted softly. Saint Potter. Always worried for other people's well being.

"I assure you that your relatives are safe," swore Dumbledore. "The less they know the better. I have asked a few trusted friends to keep an eye on the area."

"What does this have to do with me, Professor," Draco asked, genuinely curious as to his role in the whole ordeal.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. Draco tensed. He knew that stance; his mother was quite fond of that stance. It was the stance she adopted when she was about to deliver bad news to either him or to Lucius. Draco got the feeling that he wasn't going to like the words that came out of Dumbledore's mouth next.

"Harry, unfortunately we are going to have to relocate you for the summer," he said softly. Harry frowned. "Relocate me?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy have very kindly offered to house you over the course of this summer."

Draco's face went slack and his mouth dropped open. Looking to his right, he saw that Harry had adopted the same expression.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, I–" Started Harry. Dumbledore held up a hand to interrupt Harry. "I'm afraid I must ask you not to argue, my boy. I understand that there is a sliver of animosity between you and Draco, Harry, but this is for your safety. You must understand that," Dumbledore insisted.

"I do, Professor. I do! But why couldn't I stay with Ron? Or Hermione even?" Harry suggested desperately.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, "why not Granger or Weasley?"

"Both of those families have been considered, trust me," reasoned the headmaster. "Malfoy Manor is the safest place for you to be right now, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to present another argument. "But–"

"No buts!" Dumbledore said firmly. Harry closed his mouth quickly, knowing better than to keep on arguing. "Now you two have a train to catch. Your group will have already left. Allow me to escort you."

Dumbledore pushed his chair back and swept around his desk to lead the two boys out. Draco and Harry stood, dumbstruck. They followed the headmaster from the room wordlessly, each lost in their own thoughts.

Draco wondered why his parents had agreed to this. He wondered why they had offered in the first place? Lucius was not known to be a compassionate man. Narcissa had her moments, but recently she had been becoming more distant with each passing month.

What would this mean for Draco? Would his father still act the same around him? Would Draco fade into nothingness in the shadow of Harry Potter? Would Lucius treat Harry more like a son than he ever did Draco?

Or… would Harry be subject to the same treatment Draco grew up with?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! All the love and salad!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hi guys! Welcome to the next chapter! Hope you guys enjoy and as always: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"This is your house?"

Draco smothered a smirk at Harry's awe. Instead, Draco shrugged cooly. "It's alright," he responded, blasé.

"This is your house now, too, Mr. Potter," interjected Lucius as he removed his overcoat. Lucius never went anywhere without his coat, no matter what the weather was. It was one of the many mysteries of Lucius Malfoy that Draco had learned to live with..

"But I will have you know that in this house we have rules. And I expect those rules to be kept," Lucius explained, staring Harry in the eyes. Harry stared back, green eyes on blue. "Yes, sir," he replied with as much courage as he could. Lucius held the eye contact for another moment before he raised one slender eyebrow haughtily and then proceeded to stride away down the hallway.

Draco inhaled deeply. "Come on, Potter," he said as he began to leave the same way his father had. "Let's go find you a room to stay in." Harry looked around the entrance once more before scurrying off after Malfoy.

"What rules was he talking about, Malfoy?" Harry asked curiously. "Your father, I mean?"

Draco slowed his walk to allow Harry to catch up with him. Once the black haired boy stood level with him, Draco spoke. "There aren't that many to follow. I'll tell you the important ones though."

The two boys turned a corner and Harry's ears were suddenly filled with new voices, whispering voices. He looked up and saw that this particular hallway's walls were adorned with pictures. Judging by the angles of their jaws and the cutting glares in their eyes, Harry guessed that these were Malfoy's ancestors.

"Rule Number One:," Draco stopped and ducked into a room to his right, "if you're not sure where a door leads, don't go in." Harry followed him into a room that was bursting with books. There had to be more than fifteen bookcases filled with books. And if that wasn't enough, the walls themselves were bookshelves; Harry couldn't have even began to guess how many books the room contained.

"Where did you get so many books?" He breathed in awe. Draco, who was halfway across the room by then, looked back and saw that Harry was still standing in the doorway. "I dunno," Draco shrugged. "My guess is that they've been handed down from past relatives. That and my mother loves to read, so quite a bit of them belong to her. Now come on," he turned his back on the Potter boy and started walking again.

"Am I going to be sleeping in here?" Harry asked curiously. Draco snorted. "Don't be daft, Potter. We're just taking a shortcut." The boys had reached the back of the expansive library. Draco had led them to a rather small doorway that he had been hidden behind a stack of books. Draco crouched down and turned the small brass handle before shoving inward against the door. Staying crouched, so that he could fit through the narrow opening, he shuffled forward awkwardly until he passed through the doorway.

Harry stared silently at the open doorway before shrugging and copying Malfoy's actions. Once he was through the doorway, he found that he could stand up again. In fact, the ceiling was quite high above him. Malfoy had led them to a winding stone staircase that went up and up, finally ending before it touched the undecorated ceiling.

"This used to be an old servant's passage," Draco answered Harry's question before the boy could even form the words.

"Rule Number Two: sometimes the servant's passages are safer," said Malfoy. "Well," he pondered, "I guess it's not technically a rule but it is rather good advice."

Harry frowned. Safer? What did they need to be kept safe from? He opened his mouth to ask as much but Draco spoke again. "Rule Number Three:," Draco began up the stairs, climbing rather fast. Harry sprinted to keep up. "We're to remain hidden when my parents have company."

Harry nodded understandingly; the Dursleys were the same way. A quarter of the way up the stairs, Draco stopped at another small doorway, opened it, and shimmied his way through with Harry right behind him.

"Malfoy?" Harry started as he rose to a standing position. "Why are those doors so small?"

Draco turned around and stared at Harry, incredulousness covering his face. "Merlin, Potter. Are you daft?"

Harry didn't say anything, but waited patiently for Malfoy to answer his question. Draco shook his head in wonderment. "They're for the house elves, dummy."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "House elves? What's a house elf?"

Draco's face went blank. "Blimey…" Was all he said before he spun in his heel and stalked off down yet another hallway. Harry huffed. He hated being in the dark when it came to the wizarding wold. Things that were mundane and commonplace to others were brand new and exciting to Harry. Problem was, not many people actually wanted to take the time to explain things to him.

Harry started off after Draco, but his eyes were searching the walls, which were covered in paintings this time, not photographs. So intent was he on watching the caricatures move that he didn't notice that Malfoy had stopped moving. He crashed right into the pale haired boy, causing him to crash to the ground. Harry almost went down himself, but managed to find his balance. He winced at the glare Malfoy gave him from his spot on the floor.

"Sorry?" He offered sheepishly. He reached out a hand to help Draco stand, but Draco swatted it away and got up on his own.

"What'd you stop for?" Harry asked. Draco glared again. "What'd you run into me for?"

Harry glared back. "It was your own fault! You shouldn't have been just standing in the middle of the hall!"

"I stopped because I was going to tell you the next rule!" Draco's arm shot out and he pointed to a set of double doors beside him. Harry followed Draco's pointing arm and stared up at the grand mahogany doors.

"What's in there?" He whispered. He didn't know why he had switched to whispering, but it just felt right for some reason.

"That's my father's study," replied Draco, lowering his own voice. "Rule Number Four: never go in there without permission, because if you do, he'll kill you."

Harry looked into the other boy's eyes, searching for the lie. He was horrified when he found none. Harry reflexively stepped away from the doors.

"HA!"

Harry jumped at the sudden loud noise. He stared at Draco, who's previously serious face had suddenly warped into one filled with humor.

"I'm just messing with you, Potter," giggled Draco. "Ah," he sighed, "you should've seen your face. Priceless." Draco wiped away a fake tear. Harry frowned at Draco's attempted joke.

"That wasn't funny, Malfoy," he said angrily. Draco's face split into one of trademark evil smirks. "Yes, it was," he retorted simply.

Harry and Draco stared intently at each other. Draco was the first to break the eye contact. He turned away from Harry and continued down the hall. "Fine," he said airily, waving a hand in the air. "Have it your way. Come on; we're almost to your room."

Harry let his head fall backward. If this is what he had to deal with all summer, then he couldn't wait to be back at Hogwarts.

Harry followed the young Malfoy up another flight of stairs, around three corners (two lefts and a right), and down to the end of a hall. There were two doors that stood facing each other, one on either side of the hallway. Draco stepped up and opened the one of the right. He stepped aside and let Harry enter.

The room contained the essentials: a bed, a wardrobe, a trunk, and a nightstand with a lamp. Aside from that, the room was blank. The walls were white and unpersonalized; there were no pictures or artwork hung. Harry opened the wardrobe: empty. The lifted the lid to the trunk: also empty.

It was clear that the room had never been used; however, it was clean and well kept. Harry couldn't complain. This room was nicer (and much more spacious) than anything he had ever had.

"Dobby'll bring your things up soon. Then you can unpack if you like," Draco informed. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and looked over at the little Slytherin.

"Who's Dobby?" Harry queried. His question was answered when two shaped suddenly appeared in front of him. Harry jumped off the bed. One of the shapes he recognized; it was his school trunk. The other shape was unfamiliar to him. It was… well, Harry didn't really know what it was. It was a bit on the smaller side, yet it had large floppy ears and big round eyes the color of emeralds.

Its skin was wrinkly and a bit pink and it wore what appeared to be a pillowcase that had been fashioned into a toga of sorts.

"Dobby has brought Master Potter's things for him!" The creature crowed proudly. Harry blinked owlishly.

"Are– are you– what are– " Stuttered Harry, not quite sure how to phrase his question without sounding rude. He was saved from his attempt by Draco. "Dobby's our family's house elf," he said simply. Dobby turned and smiled slightly at Draco before quickly disappearing.

"That was a house elf?" Harry sputtered, shocked.

"What were you expecting, Potter?" Scoffed Draco. "A beautiful woman with pointed ears and a dazzling smile?" He mocked.

"Oh shut up, Malfoy," Harry spat back. Draco's smug smile disappeared and he backed out of Harry's room. Harry watched Malfoy disappear from the doorway, guessing he had gone back down the hall. Once Harry was sure Draco was gone, he flopped backwards on his bed with a groan.

This summer was going to be absolute torture.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! All the love and kisses!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Onwards and upwards! You know the drill: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Harry didn't see Draco again until dinner. The dark haired boy had whiled away the late afternoon hours by exploring Malfoy Manor. He had gotten himself hopelessly lost within the first five minutes, but he didn't care. Whenever he needed to get back to a certain point, he would simply ask one of the people in the paintings and pictures. Some of them would simply scoff and turn their heads while others would kindly point him in the correct direction.

In his exploration, Harry had discovered three more libraries, a smattering of lavatories, and a strange metal box. It had stood at the end of a hallway that had no doors. Harry had approached it curiously. On the middle right of the door was a handle. Harry reached out and gave it a tug; it didn't budge. He gripped the handle with both hands and pulled hard. Nothing.

He frowned, then braced his feet agains the floor and heaved backwards with all of his eleven year old might. He grit his teeth as the door refused to budge. Finally Harry let go, panting slightly from the exertion.

How odd. There were no visible locks on the door yet it was clear to Harry that it was bolted shut. Maybe it was sealed with magic. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He wondered what was hidden inside. Maybe it was where the Malfoys kept their valuables.

Deciding that it wasn't worth trying to get it open, Harry wandered off the way he had come. On his way up the stairs, he was shocked to find that he wasn't ascending alone. At some point, the house elf called Dobby had appeared beside him and was quietly following, glancing up at the newcomer every so often.

"Hullo, Dobby," Harry greeted. Dobby looked up at the boy. "Good evening, sir," Dobby greeted in return. "Master Malfoy requests that you join the family for dinner."

Harry hummed his agreement. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Dobby poised his fingers to snap, preparing to wink out of sight. "Dobby, wait!" Cried Harry. Dobby stared inquisitively up at the boy.

"Yes, Master Potter?"

"I don't know where to go, Dobby," Harry admitted. "Could you lead me? That is, if you don't mind?"

Dobby's emerald eyes sparked, the little elf glad to be able to help. "Of course!" Dobby cheered. "Dobby is always happy to help," he said as he grabbed Harry by the hand and began to speed walk down the hall. Harry had to trot to keep pace with the excited house elf.

The careened around corners and flew up a flight of stairs before Dobby deposited Harry at the entrance to what appeared to be the dining room. Dobby let go of Harry's hand and stepped back. Harry huffed, out of breath from their excursion. "Thanks, Dobby," he said breathlessly.

He looked down at the elf but Dobby had already disappeared.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," called the voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Delightful of you to join us. Please, come sit," he said as he gestured to the many empty seats at the table. Lucius was seated at the head of the long table with a woman, whom Harry assumed to be Mrs. Malfoy, to his right. To his left sat Draco. Harry had plenty of chairs to choose from, but he felt that it would be rude to distance him self from the family. He pulled back the seat to Draco's left and sat down.

Draco didn't look up as Harry sat down next to him. Instead he kept his gaze firmly fixed on a dark knot in the highly polished wood. Harry curiously glanced over at the other boy but said nothing.

"Harry, have you met my wife?" Lucius asked cooly. Harry turned his attention to the Malfoy patriarch. "No, sir, I haven't," he answered truthfully, because it was true: he hadn't met Mrs. Malfoy yet. He'd never even heard anything about her.

"Harry, this is my wife Narcissa Malfoy. Darling, this is Harry Potter," Lucius said.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said politely. Narcissa gave him a soft smile and inclined her head, but said nothing. Harry frowned slightly. What was with Mrs. Malfoy and Draco not talking? Was that one of the rules? No talking during dinner?

Before Harry had a chance to ask Draco, platters of food appeared on the table in front of them, exactly the way the food at Hogwarts did. Harry began to wonder is Hogwarts had house elves too.

Halfway through the meal, Mr. Malfoy set down his fork to speak. "Earlier, Draco was telling us about his first year at Hogwarts. He says that you were sorted into Gryffindor, yes?"

Harry swallowed his mouthful of potatoes before answering. "Yes, sir."

Lucius nodded. "Good, good." He paused to take a sip of his wine before continuing. "Draco was also informing me that you and him shared a detention this year, is that right?"

Harry choked slightly on the water he had been sipping. "Uh, yes, sir," he responded meekly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco duck his head.

"I see. Now," Lucius said as he folded his hands in his lap, "would either of you like to elaborate on how exactly you ended up in detention?"

Harry and Draco exchanged a loaded glance.

"Well–" Started Harry but he didn't get far.

"It was my fault," Draco interrupted. Harry shot Draco a quizzical look. "I was out after hours and Harry was just trying to get me to go back to my dorms."

Harry was shocked, not only because of the use of his first name, but because Malfoy was defending him. But for what reason? Why was Draco taking the blame?

"And you Mr. Potter? Why were you out after hours?" Lucius questioned calmly. Again, it was Draco who answered. "He, uh, he had lost–"

"–my wand," Harry cut in. "I had lost my wand."

One of Lucius's eyebrows climbed for his hairline. "Lost your wand?"

Harry and Draco both nodded quickly. Lucius's gaze jumped from his son to the Potter boy. "Pray tell," he said, leaning forward, "how exactly did you lose your wand?"

Harry thought quickly. "I'm just not used to carrying it, you know? I mean I only just found out last year that I was a wizard. Can't expect me to remember anything," he laughed breathlessly.

Lucius's other eyebrow went up. "Uh huh," he huffed, unconvinced, as he leaned back in his chair.

"Mother, may we be excused?" Asked Draco placidly, though Harry detected a twinge of nervousness in his voice. Narcissa nodded silently and Draco and Harry pushed back from their chairs. Harry mumbled a quick 'thank you' before following Draco from the room.

He waited until he was sure that they were out of earshot before he hissed, "What was that all about?"

Draco just shook his head and continued on his path. Harry stopped and watched the young Malfoy disappear around a corner. He shook his head and wondered whether he'd ever understand that boy.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Harry spat out his mouthful of toothpaste before filling his mouth with water. He swished the water back and forth between his teeth before spitting it out too.

The young wizard didn't know what else to do after dinner. He didn't feel much like exploring anymore and he didn't have any books to read. So he opted for simply going to bed early. He had changed into his pajamas, washed his face, and had just finished brushing his teeth.

He switched off the light and exited the bathroom that adjoined to his room. He crossed the room to his bed and flipped back the heavy duvet. He peeled back the underlying sheet before settling himself on the firm mattress. He clicked off the lap, folded his glasses, placed them on the nightstand, and slid down farther under the duvet. He closed his eyes and sighed, welcoming the weight of the blanket as it moulded around him.

Just as Harry felt himself tipping over the brink into the world of sleep, a sound niggled at his ear. He tugged open heavy lids and listened for the sound again. He wasn't exactly sure what he had heard.

Harry's ears perked up as he heard a muffled crash. He shoved the blanket away and sat up, shoving his glasses on his face. He stared at light that creeped around the crack between the door and the doorframe.

Harry held his breath, struggling to catch another noise. With the sound of his breathing suppressed, Harry swore he could hear what sounding like shouting. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Harry got up and crept out of his room. He saw that the doorway across from his was swung wide open. By the dim light of the candles adorning the hall, Harry could just make out a bed with blankets and sheets tousled, not unlike his own.

Harry would have loved to investigate further but his ears caught the sound of the shouting again, and he was reminded of why he was out of bed in the first place. Harry kept his footsteps quiet, a trick he had taught himself due to years of living with the Dursleys.

He padded down the hallway and took a left around the first corner. Next he took a right followed by another right. Then his ears led him down a flight of stairs and into a dark hallway. In fact, it was so dark that, had it not been for his hair, Harry might have missed the balled up form of Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall.

Harry had to squint to make out Draco's shape. Draco had shoved himself up against the wall; his knees were drawn to his chest, his slender arms holding them in place. His chin rested on top of his bony knees. To put it frankly, Draco looked miserable.

The shouting was coming from a familiar set of mahogany double doors. Harry guessed that the voices engaged in the verbal sparring belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Not knowing what else to do, Harry settled on sitting next to Malfoy.

Harry slid down the wall until he was sitting on his bottom, his knees drawn up in a position identical to Draco's. Draco dropped his head to side and looked at Harry sideways. Harry stared back. "What's going on?" Harry whispered. Draco shrugged but Harry guessed that the young Malfoy knew exactly what was going on but didn't wish to share.

Harry brushed it off; if Malfoy didn't want to share, that was fine with him. Harry, after all, had no business prying into the Malfoy's family matters.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked quietly. "Draco squinted at Harry incredulously. Harry shrugged back at him. Draco snorted softly before returning his gaze to the closed double doors.

Harry followed suit. He closed his eyes and tried to make out the words the Malfoys were hurling.

 _"What were you expecting Lucius?"_

 _"Not that. We've raised him to be respectful to his elders. We've raised him to follow rules–"_

 _"No, Lucius._ You've _raised him to follow rules. I have had no hand in that."_

 _"Whether or not you had a hand in his upbringing is no concern of mine."_

 _"How_ dare _you? How could–"_

 _"He is better than this! I've taught him to be better than this!"_

 _"Merlin's beard, it was detention, Lucius! You act like he's gone and murdered someone."_

Draco buried his forehead in the crook of his elbow. Harry gave the young Malfoy a look of sympathy but made no effort to comfort him.

 _"Time after time again he has brought disgrace on the Malfoy name."_

 _"Oh please, you act like you were never given a detention in school."_

 _"I wasn't. I was very close to being perfect. Saint like, if you please."_

There was a laugh, discernibly filled with disbelief.

 _"He wouldn't have even been out of bed had it not been for Potter."_

 _"Oh come now, Lucius. That's hardly fair. You heard from their own mouths what happened."_

Another laugh rang out, this one was cold. _"Don't tell me that you actually believed them? Draco has never been a good liar. Did you see his nose? It twitched. It always twitches when he's lying."_

 _"Lucius–"_

 _"Go and wake Potter. I'll get the real story from him."_

Draco's head shot up, his eyes suddenly filled with panic. Harry raised an eyebrow at the now alert boy sitting next to him.

 _"Lucius–"_ Narcissa tried again.

 _"Don't argue with me, woman."_

There was a beat of silence followed by the sounds of footsteps approaching the door.

"No, no, no…" Draco breathed, horror seeping in to his voice. He scrambled to his feet and reached down. He wrapped his long fingers around Harry's wrist and tugged. Harry shoved himself to his feet, Malfoy's panic igniting something in him. Draco didn't wait until Harry had stood all the way up before he was pulling the boy down the hall behind him.

Harry stumbled the first few steps before gathering his feet under him. "Draco, what–"

"Sh!" Draco threw over his shoulder, not slowing his pace. Harry set his jaw and wordlessly followed the blonde haired boy. Draco led them up the staircase Harry had descended not ten minutes ago. Harry speculated that Draco was leading them back to Harry's room.

Harry had guessed incorrectly. Instead of turning left at the top of the staircase, Draco went right. Fickle flames that danced atop candlewicks winked out as the two boys sped past, a gust of air whirling behind them. Harry lost count of how many turns they had taken; he was utterly and completely lost. He was thankful that Draco was leading him, for he had no idea where he was.

After a few more moments of weaving and ducking and veering, Draco finally came to a halt in front of a door. He let go of Harry's wrist and threw open the door. The black haired boy peered over Malfoy's shoulder. What he saw was… a closet?

"You brought us to a closet?" He asked, dumbfounded. Once again, Draco quickly shushed him. Then, without warning, he spun around, grabbed Harry's shoulders and shoved him into the closet.

"Malfoy, what–"

Draco slapped a hand over Harry's mouth; Harry's eyes went wide. He stared into Malfoy's ice blue eyes. Draco's eyes were filled with panic, desperation, and, overall, fear. Harry wondered what could have Malfoy so spooked.

Draco leaned in very close to Harry. "Stay here. Stay here and be quiet," he instructed firmly. "If I'm not back within an hour, go back to your room. Go back to your room, go to sleep, and don't get up for anything. You stay in your bed until morning. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, a sliver of fear striking his heart. Draco inhaled deeply and removed his hand from Harry's mouth.

"Malfoy, I don't–"

Before Harry could say anything else, the door was closed in his face. Harry backed up until his back touched the wall. All he could do now was wait.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! All the love and butterflies!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Hello my pretties! I'm sorry, I know it's been a while since I've posted. But fear not my children! I'm back! Thank you to all those who've reviewed, favorited, and followed in my hiatus! **EXPLANATION TIME; PLEASE READ.** I haven't posted in over two week because my idea well is beginning to run dry. POLL TIME. If you have time, help a girl out and _please_ pick one and DM me your answer. That way I can tally the votes and it'll be a surprise for you guys which one gets picked. ;) I **f there's something else you'd rather happen, LET ME KNOW**. I am always open to suggestions and prompts!

OPTIONS:

1\. Lucius makes Draco write with a Black Quill

2\. Draco's nasty, extended family comes to stay for a week

3\. Harry discovers Draco's fear of small spaces

Also, there's something I've neglected to address: **THIS IS NOT A SLASH STORY NOR WILL IT EVER BE**. One of my lovely reviewers, **MagstarThePongo** , was wondering if slash was in the future of this story. I assure you, my dear, that it is not. I have nothing against the gay community, but I won't be steering the story in that direction. Thank you guys for your support! You know the drill: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Draco turned his back to the closet and leaned his weight against the door, making sure that Potter wasn't going to try and follow him. Draco held his breath and counted to sixty. When he didn't hear the doorknob rattle and didn't feel the door being forced open, he finally exhaled and started back off down the hall at a brisk pace.

He glanced behind himself at the door, making sure it was still closed. Potter had a nasty habit for disregarding instructions, especially ones that were issued to keep him safe.

The door was still closed as Draco turned the corner. He turned his head forward and increased his pace. He needed to dissuade his mother from hunting down Potter. If she found Potter and brought him to Lucius, Draco didn't want to imagine what would happen.

Before the black haired boy had joined them for dinner, Draco had overheard his parents talking in the front room. Mr. Malfoy had been pontificating about how now that Potter was staying with them meant that he was completely under Lucius' jurisdiction.

Draco could only guess that that meant that Potter was not exempt from the punishments Draco had grown up with. The second Draco realized what his father meant he had been struck by fear, for Potter's safety, and a fierce urge to protect Potter. Why he had felt any of those things, Draco couldn't say. He didn't like Potter in the slightest; he knew the feeling was mutual.

Draco was used to the punishments he received. When he was younger, he received Lucius' brutal punishments at least three or four times a week. Draco had always been a difficult child; he didn't mean to be, really.

The things that Draco had thought to be right or "safe" were viewed as wrong and worthy of discipline. As Draco grew older, he cottoned on to the way his father expected him to act and to which behaviors were absolutely off limits.

For example: Malfoys did not cry. Tears, according to Lucius, were a display of weakness.

He had been eight years old the last time he had cried. Another example: Malfoys did not show pain. Draco had always thought this was a stupid rule. What if he were dying and he didn't tell someone because "Malfoys did not show pain"? Nonetheless, Draco had followed the rule. The only times he was ever thankful for the rule was when he was able to successfully hide his pain from his mother. Narcissa wasn't heavily involved in Draco's life these days, but that wasn't to say that she didn't care for his well being.

Perhaps one of the reasons Draco felt the need to protect Potter was because Potter didn't know about any of those rules. Draco knew how to take a punishment from Lucius, Potter did not.

"Draco?"

Draco startled, and look up at the figure that had suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Draco, what are you doing out of bed?" Narcissa whispered harshly. Draco blinked. She was angry. Why was she angry? Draco wasn't aware that he had done anything to provoke displeasure.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied, not untruthfully. No matter where his parents were in the manor, Draco's ears could always pick up when they were fighting. Another curse of living with Narcissa and Lucius: daily, they would find something to argue about. More often than not, their disputes would take place late in the night and Draco wouldn't be able to sleep until their disagreement petered out into silence.

Draco had had a feeling he knew what tonight's argument was going to be about, so he had crept out of bed and had settled himself to listen.

Narcissa's face softened slightly at her son's response. She wasn't unaware of the effect her and Lucius' arguments had on Draco. Many times she had caught him listening just outside the door, eyes closed but ears listening with rapt attention.

"Come here," she said, stretching out a hand. The twelve year old walked forward until he was in range of his mothers reaching hand. Narcissa draped her arm across Draco's shoulders, pulling him close to her side, and began to steer him down the hall.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep now that it's over?" She asked kindly, keeping her voice quiet. Draco nodded silently. That was a lie. He knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight. His nerves felt too jangled. However, he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight for another reason entirely, for as he and his mother passed the open study door, Lucius appeared in the doorway.

His gaze fixed first on his wife then flicked down to alight on his son's face. There was a steely glint in Lucius' eyes that shot a blade of ice through Draco's stomach.

"I believe I asked you to bring me Potter, Narcissa," said Lucius, eyes still on Draco.

"I–" began Narcissa.

"Draco," Lucius said, void of all emotion, "is there a reason you are out of bed?"

"Just a bit of restlessness, Lucius," Narcissa responded. Lucius turned cold blue eyes on her. "I believe I was speaking to my son," he said just as coldly. Narcissa bowed her head slightly, a silent apology. Lucius glared down at the pale haired boy. He raised an eyebrow in lieu of repeating his question.

"I just wanted a cup of tea before bed," Draco said as respectfully as he could. Lucius's eyebrow climbed a little higher.

"Indeed?"

Draco held back a cringe; he hadn't bought it. Lucius had seen straight through his lie. And Draco thought he had been getting so good at lying… Blasted nose; no matter how had he tried, he could never control the minuscule quiver the tip of his nose would give whenever he told a lie.

"Well, considering the fact that you're already awake, why not come inside?" Lucius invited, stepping to the side so as to permit Draco entrance.

"Really, Lucius, I think Draco ought to––" Narcissa began.

"Silence, woman," drawled Lucius. Narcissa clamped her lips together but tightened her hold on Draco's shoulder.

Draco could feel his heart pumping wildly in his chest. Despite the fact that Draco had lived with the man for all the twelve years of his life, Lucius never failed to strike fear into Draco's heart. And to add to this, being alone with Lucius was never a good idea for anyone; another reason Draco thought he might have felt the need to protect Potter.

"Inside, please, Draco," Lucius said, still standing aside. Neither Narcissa nor Draco moved. But in the next second, Draco regretted not obeying Lucius's second demand for, suddenly, his father's eyes were filled with steely fire. He was angry.

Draco quickly extricated himself from his mother's death grip on his shoulder and hurried into the study. He gave his mother what he hoped was a reassuring smile right before Lucius closed the door. Lucius turned to face Draco, his hands clasped behind his back.

The younger Malfoy raised his chin and set his jaw, doing his best to project a confidence that he didn't feel.

For a moment, there was only charged silence between the Malfoys. It was only broken when Lucius gestured to one of the chairs by the fireplace and said, "Sit."

Keeping his eyes on his father, Draco edged towards the chair and took the seat to the left of the fireplace, the one that was farther away from Lucius's desk. The heat pouring from the mouth of the fireplace was unwelcome as Draco broke out in a could sweat.

Lucius had also taken a seat; he was sitting in the cushioned, tall-backed chair behind his desk. Draco stared silently as his father took up his quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and began to write on a piece of parchment that was lying, unrolled, on the desktop.

The room was filled with the sounds of the fire popping and cracking merrily, a feeling Draco couldn't share, and the scratching of Lucius's quill on parchment. Draco sat, rigid, on the edge of the chair, waiting for his father to say – or do – anything. Draco didn't dare speak, for fear of only adding kindling to the anger-fueled fire that burned in Lucius' eyes.

The silence carried on for what Draco could've sworn was hours. He shifted slightly in his seat, barely moving a few inches, but the moment he moved, Lucius' eyes flicked up from his work and fixed on Draco.

Draco froze, his breath catching in his throat. Lucius glared for a moment longer before dropping his eyes back to the parchment. Silently, Draco released his pent up breath. He knew what his father was doing; Draco had seen this tactic in action before. He called it "Intimidation by Uncomfortable Silence."

No one like uncomfortable silence. Usually people would begin to talk aimlessly, hoping to ease the discomfort. Lucius would ignore them until the person would finally speak on the subject Lucius wanted to hear in the first place. Why his father would never come out and ask what he wanted to know in the first place, Draco didn't know.

"Explain to me, again, why you were out of bed?"

Draco jumped at the sudden tenor of his father's voice. "I couldn't sleep," he responded simply.

"The real answer, if you please," said Lucius, still not looking up from his parchment.

"That _is_ the real answer: I couldn't–"

"No," Lucius interrupted. He dipped his quill back into the well to replenish its ink supply. "Once more."

Draco resisted the urge to huff. He didn't know how else to put it. "You were arguing."

He saw his father's quill pause its movement. "And this hindered your abilities to remain in your room?"

Draco bit his lip and shook his head.

"Answer me, Draco," drawled Lucius, not having seen Draco shake his head.

"No," Draco replied instantly. Lucius lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at his son. "No?"

Draco swallowed heavily. "No, sir," he amended. Lucius inhaled deeply, dropped his quill into the inkwell; he propped his elbows on the desk, his hands folded under his chin.

"I do not appreciate being lied to, Draco," he said stonily. Draco snapped his eyes up to meet his father's.

"But I didn't–"

"Do not interrupt me," Lucius snapped. Draco's jaws snapped shut with an audible _click_. "Why were you out of bed?"

Draco could've screamed; why wouldn't his father accept his answer?

Lucius rose from his chair and stepped around the desk. Draco saw that his father was now bearing his serpent-headed cane. A flicker of fear sputtered in his stomach. Lucius's cane contained his wand; he wouldn't have picked it up if he didn't intend to use it.

"Earlier today, at dinner, I asked you why you had received a detention," Lucius began, leaning back against the edge of his desk, "and you told me that you were out after hours. I ask you again: why were you out of bed?" His tone had gone flinty, anger brewing just below the surface.

Draco's heart beat harder. "I–I…"

A muscle jumped in Lucius's jaw. "Let's try that again, shall we?" Lucius hissed. "Fail me again and I will _loosen your tongue_."

A small shudder shook Draco's frame. He opened his mouth, not knowing what he was going to say. Lucius's face contorted as no words came out of Draco's mouth.

Faster than Draco's eye could follow, Lucius raised his cane and struck Draco across the face. Draco closed his lips against the surprised yelp that had jumped into his throat.

"Look at me, Draco," Lucius ordered. Draco slowly turned his face forward, but didn't look up into his father's eyes.

"Why were you out of bed?" Repeated the elder Malfoy for the fifth time that evening. Draco continued to stare into Lucius's chest; he had lied earlier for a reason. He wasn't going to give up on his ruse now.

 _Crack_.

Lucius whipped the cane across Draco's other cheek.

" _Why_ were you out of bed?"

Draco gave no response.

 _Crack_.

The question was repeated again and, again, no answer was given.

 _Smack_.

This time is was Lucius's hand that connected with Draco's face. The force with which the blow was delivered was enough that Draco's entire body followed his head as it snapped to the side.

"Are you willing to tell me the truth?" Draco heard his father's cold voice through the ringing in his ears. Draco was too stunned to reply. Lucius took his son's silence for a negative, for in the next moment, he had unsheathed his wand and pointed it at Draco.

" _Crucio_!" He snarled. Draco was no stranger to the Cruciatus curse; he'd felt it twice before in his life, both times in one night. Draco's familiarity with the curse, however, made it no less of shock to him.

The pain forced itself into his bones and felt as though it had shattered them from the inside out. It crammed itself between his muscles and joints and set each nerve alight with a vindictiveness to rival that of Lucius himself.

Draco's back arched and his fingernails bit into the pale flesh of his palms as agony clouded his mind. He couldn't breathe; there was no air in the room.

Suddenly, his senses returned to him. He found that he was no longer sitting on the chair, but was curled on his side on the floor. He heaved for air, his lungs still feeling impossibly tight.

"I will only ask you once more," came the silky tenor of his father's voice from above him. "Why were you out of bed?"

Draco made to reply, but there simply wasn't enough air for him to speak.

"Very well."

Draco tried to scramble away from Lucius, not knowing what was coming next, but desperately wanting to get away from the inflictor of his pain. He didn't get very far before Lucius's wand was back on him.

" _Crucio_!"

If the first time was terrible, the second time was monstrous. His muscles contracted so tightly that, had it not been for the occasional spasm, Draco could've passed for statue. He flipped onto his back with a violent shudder. His wide round eyes were filled with terror. The pain had reached a level Draco couldn't have even come close to imagining. His vision flashed white then black, but his eyes never closed.

It wasn't long before the black and white began to mingle together; black spots danced tauntingly as Draco's eyes began to roll back in his head. Would the pain ever end?

No sooner had the plea crossed his mind when, abruptly, the curse was lifted. That wasn't to say that Lucius thought him properly punished.

Draco curled in on his side once more as a booted foot made contact with his side. He wrapped his arms protectively around his middle, shielding it from more blows. This didn't deter Lucius. He aimed another kick at Draco's abdomen, but his foot made contact instead with Draco's right forearm.

Draco couldn't hold back the scream as a sickening crack rang out. He drew his injured arm out of the way just in time as his father's booted foot swung again. This time, it made contact with his now unprotected stomach.

Draco didn't have time to roll away before he was violently sick. What meager food he had eaten early brutally returned, this time diluted with bile. He coughed and forced the last of the sick from his mouth. He didn't move from his position on the floor, terrified that Lucius might attack again. He screwed his eyes shut, anticipating the next blow.

It didn't come.

Instead, the echoes of retreating footsteps filled Draco's ears. He cracked open one lurid blue eye; one of the study doors stood ajar. Lucius was no where to be seen.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! **And please please PLEASE vote** for what you want to see next! All the love and sunshine!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Heyyy… It's me. So sorry for leaving you all hanging! I've been getting bombarded with new ideas for new stories and I had to put them in writing before they flew the coop. Anywho… thank you to those who voted! **COMING SOON** : y'all get to see Harry discover Draco's claustrophobia. Also, I should be posting my new stories soon! It'll be a series on the Marauders, in case you were wondering.;) If you guys love me, check them out, drop me reviews, let me know what you think!

Thank you guys for your support! You know the drill: if there is anything you guys would like to see in the future, drop a comment or PM me!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Paper-white hands pulled a wood-backed brush through black and white streaked hair.

"76, 77, 78…" counted Narcissa quietly, scared to raise her voice above a whisper for fear of waking her husband. "79, 80, 81…"

Her mother taught her when she was little to brush her hair with 100 strokes a day. She and her sisters would take turns brushing each others' hair and counting out the strokes. It was a habit that Narcissa had never given up. Had she had a daughter, she would've passed on the practice.

Narcissa had just reached stroke 90 when the sound of breaking glass stopped her. She laid her brush on the vanity and rose from her stool. Crossing over to the door, she peeked her head out the door cautiously, searching for the source of the sound.

As luck would have it, the source was no more than five feet from her door.

On the floor was an upturned tea tray; tea was pooling around the smashed tea pot, with tiny streams streaking away and absorbing into dropped toast.

Standing above the mess was a young man still wearing pajamas, a dressing gown, and slippers; looking dazed and vaguely distraught, was Draco.

Narcissa stepped out in the hallway, tugging her dressing gown tighter around her slender frame. "Draco?" She called softly. Instead of reacting to her voice, Draco crouched down, flipped the tray right side up, and began to collect shards of broken china.

"Draco, sweetheart?" She tried again, slowly approaching her son. "Draco, are you all right?" Narcissa raised her voice to its normal pitch.

"I'm fine," Draco muttered, still not looking up. He hissed as a piece of china sliced the tip of his finger. Ignoring the drop of blood that had welled up, Draco threw the shard onto the tray.

Narcissa frowned, pulled out her wand, pointed it at the debris on the floor, and incanted " _Evanesco_."

As the spilled tea, broken china, and soggy toast disappeared, Draco picked up the tray and got to his feet. He still hadn't met Narcissa's eyes. Narcissa dropped her wand back into the pocket of her dressing gown and took another step towards Draco.

She slipped a delicate hand under his chin and gently guided his face up. Draco's bright blue eyes finally met hers. Narcissa couldn't help the sigh that escaped between her lips. The vacant expression that haunted her son's usually spirited eyes was one that Narcissa knew all too well.

"Oh, my dragon," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his small frame and pulled him close to her. She brought one hand up to rest on his white blonde hair, the other remained around his shoulders. Narcissa pressed a kiss onto the crown on his head.

She gave her son a squeeze as she felt one of his arms come up and circle around her back awkwardly, the tea tray still held firmly in Draco's hand. After a moment in which neither Malfoy said anything, Draco dropped his arm and stood back. Narcissa let go and gave her son once over. There were no prominent injuries that she could see, but she knew that Draco wouldn't tell her if there were any even if she asked. So instead, she settled for giving him a warm smile.

"Would you like…"

Her words trailed off as Draco began to back away.

"Where are you going?" She called after him. Draco brandished the tray and said in a small voice, "Tea."

Narcissa's nod was lost to Draco as he turned his back to her and set off for the kitchen.

Narcissa sighed heavily and dropped her head into her hands. How had she let this happen?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Draco moved slowly up the staircase, careful not to disrupt the tea tray he balanced on one arm. His tip of his tongue protruded slightly through his lips as he concentrated on rounding a corner slowly. So focused was he on keeping the tray steady that he didn't notice that someone was standing in front of him until he had nearly run them over. Draco stopped abruptly, startled by the appearance of another person.

The tray tilted threateningly as the teapot began to slide to one side. Draco tried to tip it back in the other direction, but it was no good. Just as it seemed that Draco was going to destroy a second tea set that morning, a pair of narrow hands shot out and grabbed ahold of either side of the tray.

Draco looked up and saw that the hands belonged to none other than Harry Potter.

Harry stared quizzically at the other boy. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"Carrying tea," Draco deadpanned. Harry frowned, a dark eyebrow climbed toward his hairline.

"I can see that," he replied patiently, "but why are you doing it with one hand? Don't you think two would be better than one?"

Unconsciously, Draco hid his right arm behind his back, away from Potter's grasp.

"Mind your own business, Potter," he sneered. Something flickered in Potter's eyes, but it was too quick for Draco to catch it.

Harry released the tray and stepped back, allowing Draco to pass. Tightening his one-handed grip on the tray, Draco resumed his slow and steady trek down the hallway towards his parents bedroom. If he didn't deliver the tea before his father woke up there'd be hell to pay.

"Why don't you let me do it?," came Harry's voice suddenly, no more than two steps behind him. Draco suppressed his flinch at the unanticipated sound, not wanting to spill the contents of the tray for the second time that morning.

Confident that his grip was still steady, he risked a glance backward and asked, "Do what, Potter?"

"Carry the tray," Harry responded as he drew level with the young Malfoy.

"Oh, what," snorted Draco, "is this you saying that I don't have the freedom to carry a tea tray anyway I wish? What would you prefer, Potter?" He cut a quick scathing glance at the black haired boy. "Shall I balance it on my head for you? Or perhaps you would like me to place it on my back and pretend to be a walking table? Or maybe even–"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter sighed. "I was just offering to help."

Draco's grip tightened further on the tray. "Whatever," he muttered. They walked in silence for a moment before Harry spoke again.

"Want to explain what happened last night?"

"What?" Draco felt his heart give a lurch.

"You lied about why we got detention and I want to know why."

"Potter, it–"

"And what was with shoving me in a closet? I'm not a vacuum cleaner, Malfoy,––"

"It doesn't –– wait, a what?"

"–– I'm a human being, just like you, and, since we're being forced to spend the summer together, I think we should at least try to treat each other as such."

"Potter! Shut up a moment, will you?"

The two boys were now standing outside of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's bedroom door. Harry watched as Draco gently kicked the bottom of the door in lieu of knocking. He frowned as he noticed that, though Draco's other was still unburdened, the young Malfoy failed to utilize it.

Was there something wrong with his hand?

Harry's speculations were interrupted as the door suddenly swung open to reveal Lucius Malfoy, dressed in his usual black robes.

"What kept you?" He directed towards his son, disregarding the other boy in the doorway. Draco kept his eyes down. He mumbled something that neither Harry nor Lucius could catch. This was the first time Harry had ever heard Draco speak without his usual air of snobbishness.

"You know I loathe muttering, do you not, Draco?" Lucius asked coldly. Draco nodded at his slippers, not looking up. "Then why, pray tell, are you muttering?"

Deciding to bite the bullet, Draco blurted, "I spilled the tray earlier." One pale eyebrow climbed Lucius's forehead. Lucius said nothing, but it was clear to Harry by the look on the man's face that he wasn't at all pleased with his son's confession. Lucius stepped backwards, retreating farther into the room. With the doorway unbarred, Draco shuffled forward into the room. Harry hesitated outside the room, not sure if he was allowed to enter or not.

He watched as Draco crossed to a small table that stood beside a broad window and, due to the fact that he was still stubbornly using only one hand, clumsily slid the tray onto the tabletop. The second he was free of his burden, Draco quickly scuttled out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Acting on his suspicions, Harry leapt forward and captured Draco's right forearm while the young Malfoy's back was turned. He immediately let go, however, when Draco gave a sudden yelp.

Draco whipped around glared at Harry as he clutched his arm to chest. "What did you do that for?" He hissed accusingly. His heart racing, Harry stepped towards the young Malfoy, reaching again for his arm.

"Let me see it," he said as Malfoy began to back away. Draco quickly hid his arm behind his back.

"No," he replied defensively. Harry frowned. "Let me see it, Malfoy," he repeated, still advancing on the blonde.

Draco continued to back away. "Drop it, Potter," he said warningly. He felt an involuntary flutter of fear in his chest as Potter showed no signs of stopping his advance.

A sudden bolt of pain shot through his arm as Draco accidentally backed into the wall, his arm still twisted behind his back.

He yelped and made the mistake of bringing his back into Potter's line of vision. The second Draco's arm made a reappearance, Harry once again took hold of it, though this time he took the precaution of grasping higher up on Draco's arm to avoid the injury. Draco tried feebly to retract his arm but Potter's grip was firm and moving only served to cause him more pain.

"Let go, Potter," he demanded. Harry's reply was to carefully roll up the right sleeve of Draco night shirt. Harry couldn't help the gasp that escaped his mouth. The middle of Draco's forearm was painted with a giant bruise that pulsed purple and blue. The bruise wasn't the worst of it.

Draco's forearm wasn't straight like it was supposed to be. It was sat a slight left angle so that there were not two bends in his arm (like there should have been), but three.

"What happened?" He demanded, emerald eyes blazing. Draco was taken aback by the anger he saw swimming in Potter's eyes.

"I – er – I fell," he said stupidly. Draco could've read the look of utter disbelief on Harry's face from miles away.

"Do your parents know about this? Have you shown them?"

"Er…"

Before Draco could stop him, Harry had whipped around and marched the few steps back to Draco's parents' door.

Draco lunged forward to stop him, sensing the other boy's intentions, but he wasn't quick enough.

Harry raised his fist and rapped sharply on Mr. and Mrs. Malfoys' bedroom door.

"Why did you do that?" Draco breathed, horror restricting his vocal cords. Harry stared incredulously at the Slytherin.

"Your arm is clearly broken! Why haven't you told them?"

"That's my business!" Draco retaliated. "And I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd nose out, Potter!"

"I'm trying to help you!" Harry hissed back. "And seeing as neither you or I can do magic outside of school, _they–_ " He jerked his thumb at the door, "– are your best bet!"

"I don't care whether–"

Whatever Draco hadn't cared about was lost as the door suddenly swung open. Narcissa stood with a cup of tea in her hand, now fully dressed.

"Yes?" She asked simply. Draco felt the blood drain from his face. If Narcissa found out about his arm she would be able to conclude that it was Lucius's work. If she found out it was Lucius's work she would end up having a row with him. And if Narcissa had a row with Lucius it would mean more than a broken arm for Draco.

"Just checking to make sure the tea was okay!" Draco piped at the exact same time that Potter exclaimed, "Draco's broken his arm."

A tight look appeared around Narcissa's mouth. Draco glared at Potter. Potter glared right back.

Narcissa disappeared back into the room. When she returned, the boys saw that she had abandoned her teacup and was now brandishing her wand.

"Let me see your arm, Draco," she instructed firmly. Draco innocently stuck out his left arm and placed his wrist in his mother's grasp. She pulled up his sleeve and stared blankly at the unblemished, pale skin. Briskly rolling down the sleeve, she gave her son a heatless glare before grasping his other wrist.

She let out the same gasp that Potter had given a minute ago at the sight of his arm. The dark bruise looked no better than it did moments ago. "What happened?" She asked tersely, not looking away from his arm.

"I fell," Draco lied again.

"The hell you did," Narcissa swore under her breath. Harry risked a glance over at Malfoy and saw that he had gone very, very pale. His vibrant blue eyes were fixed on a point above Harry's head. Turning away from Draco, Harry saw that Lucius Malfoy had appeared silently in the door way.

"What's all the fuss about?" He drawled carelessly, his eyes drifting over Draco's discolored arm. "Oh dear, what happened, Draco?" He asked with a disinterest to rival that of Harry's Uncle Vernon whenever Harry managed to get hurt.

"Fell," Draco lied for the third time that morning, though this time, his words were phrased almost as a question.

"Indeed?" Lucius replies blandly. "Perhaps it would play to your benefit to be more aware of your surroundings?"

Draco nodded quickly. Lucius stepped through the doorway and swept down the hall, his serpent-headed cane held firmly in his grasp.

Harry gaped as Lucius disappeared around a corner. How many times had Harry heard, or overheard, Malfoy bragging about his father and _this_ was how his father treated him? How could a father be so cold towards his own son? What could Lucius possibly have done to deserve Draco's juvenile loyalty?

Harry was drawn back to the situation at present when there was a sudden crack and Draco gave a sharp yelp. Harry snapped his head around, his untidy hair whipped about his forehead. He looked down at the pale arm still held in Mrs. Malfoy's grasp.

The break in Draco's bones had been mended and his arm was back to its proper position, though the bruise still stood out like a vibrant stain on otherwise unmarked skin. Draco removed his wrist from his mother's grip as she slid her wand into a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress.

"I'll get you something for the bruising in a bit, all right?" Narcissa set her jaw and disappeared the same way Lucius had.

Harry gave Draco a lopsided smile as the other boy rolled down his sleeve. Once he had refastened the button he looked up and squinted at Potter's grinning face.

"What's that look for?" He asked.

"Don't tell me that that doesn't feel better," Harry said with what he hoped was a friendly grin.

Draco rolled his eyes. It did in fact feel better, but he wasn't going to admit that to Potter. He and Potter walked in silence as they went back upstairs to get dressed. Reaching the end of the hallway that lead to their rooms, Draco turned into the left room while Harry went right.

Draco closed the door behind him softly. He knew Potter had only wanted to help, and to an extent he had, but in the grand scheme of things Draco knew that Potter had only served to make things worse.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The door smacked the wall with an almighty bang.

"Potter, tell me you have dress robes?"

Harry, who had been lounging peacefully one of the library's armchairs, snapped his head up, startled at the sudden surge of noise. With his free hand, he readjusted the glasses slipping off the end of his nose from the abrupt movement. The other hand marked his spot in a book he had been reading before the interruption.

The bespectacled boy stared blankly the other boy who had just entered the room. Draco stood framed in the doorway, the bottom of his robe still swaying from his movement. His brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

Harry fully intended to respond with something along the lines of 'What are dress robes?' or 'Why do I need dress robes?' Instead, the only question his mouth seemed capable of formulating was ––

"Huh?"

An exasperated sigh burst from Draco's mouth. He strode across the room to where the other boy was sitting and stopped in front of him, arms crossed and eyes still narrowed.

"Dress robes," he said slowly, enunciating each word as though speaking to a small child. "Do you have them?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the way Draco was speaking. "No, I don't have dress robes," he said as he gently closed his book and straightened up in his chair. "What on earth would I use them for?"

Draco huffed again and flopped down in another armchair to Harry's left. "Dinner parties, balls, special events. They're _dress robes_ , Potter. What do you think you use them for?" He rolled his head on his neck to look over at the dark haired boy.

A frown spread across Harry's face. "No, I don't have dress robes," he glared. "What use would I have for them? Unlike you, I don't live my life like a prized show horse, with my parents parading me around so everyone can see me."

It was Draco's turn to frown. "Yes, well, even if you had parents, who'd want to show you off?" He said nastily.

There was a _thud_ as the book Harry had been reading landed on the ground as Harry shot to his feet. Draco immediately imitated the gesture, placing the two boys less than a foot away from each other.

"Don't talk about my parents, Malfoy," Harry hissed through clenched teeth.

"Then don't talk about mine" Draco spat back. Bold emerald bored into frosty blue, neither boy wanting to break contact first. Deciding to break the charged silence, Draco spoke first.

"Dress robes," he said coldly. "You can borrow a pair of mine."

"What do I need them for?" Responded Potter, just as gelidly.

Still refusing to break eye contact, Draco said, "Father and Mother have company over. They expect us to make an appearance."

And with that, he whisked off through the open doorway whence he came.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair, gripping the ends in frustration. Professor Dumbledore had to know that he and Malfoy didn't get along. It wasn't exactly a secret. So why, _why_ , had he placed Harry with a boy he all but considered his archenemy?

Resigning himself, Harry picked his book up off the floor, returned it to the shelf, and set off to find Malfoy.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time! All the love and hugs!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I'M SO SORRY THAT I TOOK A TWO YEAR HIATUS. I SUCK SO MUCH.

I hope that if you are one of the original readers and reviewers, you're still with me on this journey. I plan to write as much as I can while I'm on break from school!

please don't hate me…

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

 **––––––––**

"You're going to have to stand up taller than that, Potter. Your posture is absolutely atrocious. Pair that with your hair and your ugly scar and you could practically pass for a troll."

Harry frowned as Malfoy sniggered to himself. There were plenty of retorts that surged to the tip of Harry's tongue, but he wisely chose to keep to mouth shut. Arguing with Malfoy was something that wouldn't benefit either of them at that particular moment.

As per Malfoy's earlier promise, Harry found himself in Malfoy's room and was currently sporting a sleek pair of black dress robes that the pale haired boy had pulled from his wardrobe. They were made of fine silk and were embellished with lustrous thread that, had Harry not known any better, could have passed as liquid silver.

It's clasp was immaculately set with a swirling ' _M_ ' surrounded by impressive wing-backed dragons and sharp spears. Harry quickly guessed that this was the Malfoy family crest.

Harry reached up and tugged slightly on the tie knotted around his neck. Draco had tied it so tightly that Harry had felt as if he were being suffocated. The young Malfoy swatted Harry's hand as the black haired boy continued to loosen the tie.

"Ouch," Harry hissed, more to annoy Draco than anything. The smack hadn't actually hurt but it was quite funny to watch Malfoy get riled up about Harry's appearance.

Malfoy muttered to himself, something about pigs, as he fiddled with the knot at Harry's throat.

He stepped back to inspect his work, giving the other boy a once-over from head to toe. "Isn't there anything that can be done about your hair? I mean, don't you ever brush it?"

Harry huffed and ran a hand over his hair. He didn't waste any breath on explaining that that was just how his hair grew. Upon seeing the exasperated look on Harry's face, Malfoy simply rolled his eyes and finished his examination of the other boy's appearance.

"It's nothing special, but I guess it'll have to do," Malfoy said at last with a shrug. "Now," he continued as he stuck a hand out to Harry, "how's your handshake?"

Expecting a trick of some sort (this was Malfoy after all), Harry skeptically grasped the proffered hand with his own. He shook it twice before quickly letting go. But before their hands had even separated all the way, Malfoy was already shaking his head.

"No, no, no," he tutted in a tired sort of voice. "That was absolutely abysmal, Potter. Come on now, you can do better than that. Firm grip." He waggled his hand between them, raising his eyebrows at the other boy.

Harry clenched his jaw and sharply grabbed Malfoy's hand for the second time. He gripped the hand tight with all the strength he possessed and pumped it up and down three times before Malfoy snatched his hand back.

"Not that hard!" He hissed, cradling his hand against his chest. "What'd you do that for?" He whined.

Harry barely suppressed the growl climbing his throat. "You said 'firm grip'–"

"Yeah! _Firm_ grip! Not death grip. Merlin's beard, Potter…"

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes at the room's other occupant. "Are we done now?" He said, shifting his weight impatiently. Malfoy let his arm rest back as his side.

"Sure," he drawled, "if you're alright with being eaten alive."

Harry raised his eyebrows, waiting for Malfoy to explain. When he didn't supply the information voluntarily, Harry asked, "What do mean?"

Malfoy shrugged as he busied himself with picking imaginary flecks of dust off of his robes. "I just thought you'd want to know a few more of the rules before we go downstairs, but seeing as you're in such a hurry…"

Harry sighed and hung his head. He knew why he had to stay here. He understood the danger of living unprotected with the Dursleys. He accepted that Dumbledore had had nothing but Harry's safety in mind when he had placed him with the Malfoys, and in a way Harry's was almost beginning to get used to living with them.

But it was times like these that reminded Harry of just why he and Malfoy were not friends. The pale, pointed face boy could be absolutely insufferable at times such as these. It was as if having knowledge that other didn't brought him a sense of power. But instead of sharing that power with everyone, he chose to tout the fact that he was in on a secret that no one else knew.

Obtaining such information from him was akin to pulling teeth.

"What, Malfoy?"

"No, no. It won't matter if I tell you anyway. You'll just forget by the time we reach the hall."

"Just tell me, Malfoy," Harry ground out through his teeth.

"Well…"

"Malfoy!"

Draco's eyes flashed as his head whipped around to look at the door. "Alright, alright!" He hushed. "Don't shout."

Harry shoved the bridge of his glasses back up his nose and waited for the boy to speak.

"These are important, so do your best to memorize them. Rule Number Five: don't speak unless spoken to."

Harry quick a short nod; a lot of Malfoy's rules were similar to ones he heard from the Dursleys.

"Rule Number Six:," Draco continued as he opened the door and stepped out into the hall, "greet all guests with a bow and kiss on the hand. And I mean everyone," he said with a meaningful glance back at Harry. Harry nodded his understanding and followed Malfoy down a staircase.

"Rule Number Seven: speak clearly. Never mumble. Rule Number Eight: always maintain eye contact. Don't look away until the person speaking looks away first."

Harry was trying to file each of the new rules away in his brain, but it was hard when Malfoy was rattling them off a mile a minute. By the time they had reached the first floor's entryway, Harry had learned ten new rules but could only remember a handful of them.

"Rule Number Sixteen: always be–" But whatever it was that they always had to be was cut off by the arrival of Narcissa Malfoy.

She stopped before the pair of eleven year olds. "Don't you boys look lovely," she said with a smile which Draco returned.

"Now," she said, gently smoothing her son's hair, "do I need to remind you two to be on your best behavior tonight?"

Both Draco and Harry shook their heads. "We will, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry promised. Narcissa graced him with another small smile. "I believe you," she drawing both Harry and Draco close to her.

Harry stood in her embrace with a mixture of shock and confusion swirling in his chest. He'd known Mrs. Malfoy for less than three days, yet here she was treating him like her own son. What had he done to deserve such instant love from her? How could someone like her be married to someone so arrogant and aloof as Lucius Malfoy?

Harry didn't waste any time in reciprocating the hug. Other than Mrs Weasley, whom he had only met briefly, Harry had never had a kind, matronly woman in his life. Perhaps living at Malfoy Manor wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought.

How wrong he was.

––––––––

Malfoy Manor was alive with the sound of at least a hundred witches and wizards chattering and laughing happily in groups. They had arrived in trios and pairs, by floo and by car, some reserved and some sprightly. Harry and Draco greeted guest after guest after guest. Harry had begun to think there wasn't going to be enough room in the closet for all of the cloaks. But whenever they needed another hanger, they would find one on the rack that Harry could have sworn wasn't there before.

Despite having spent a year in the wizarding world, Harry was still a little reluctant to believe everything.

The guests were summoned into a large dining room by Lucius Malfoy where they all feasted on a splendid spread of ham, potatoes, peas, rolls, carrots, and gravy. They washed it all down with their choice of wine, water, or cranberry pumpkin juice.

While the large party were joyously consuming their dinner, Draco and Harry stood in the corner quietly, their stomachs grumbling with discontent at being deprived of such food themselves.

It was their duty to make sure that each and every one of the guests' goblets and glasses stayed full all throughout dinner. After making their rounds, they'd return to the corner and wait until they were summoned again.

Once dinner was finished and all the remaining food returned to the kitchen, the two boys followed the group into what appeared to be a ballroom.

There were brilliant grand chandeliers of silver and gold hanging from the ceiling, each filled with a hundred burning candles reflected in the polished white marble floors. Velvet cushioned chairs skirted the round room and were quickly occupied by the abundance of people in the room.

Elegant pedestals displayed delicate china vases and respectable sculpted busts of people Harry could have sworn he'd seen in the pictures decorating the halls.

There were tables of refreshments and in the corner, enchanted instruments played softly to set the mood.

Draco and Harry positioned themselves at opposite tables across the room to serve drinks and pudding.

The crowd blocked the boys' view of each other, which made Harry quite nervous. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do, but he oddly felt better when Draco was there to do it with him.

Across the room, Draco was having feelings of anxiety himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust Potter to be on his own, it was that if something did happen Draco wouldn't be there to fix the situation when it happened.

"Oi, you!"

But it wasn't Harry who happened to get into a situation.

Draco's head turned toward the direction the voice had come from. There was a portly looking witch with a rather round set of fingers snapping and waving at him. Draco hurried over, didn't say anything, but gazed at her patiently, waiting for her to voice her request.

She shoved an empty goblet in his face and wagged it back and forth. "Care to explain why this is empty?"

The young Malfoy apologized quickly, though the empty cup was no fault of his own, and extended his hand to take it from the woman. He rushed back to the table and quickly filled the goblet halfway with cranberry pumpkin juice. He returned back to the witch, who was laughing boisterously at something another witch had said, and held out her cup.

She snatched it out of his hand, some of its contents sloshing over the sides. Still chortling to herself, she took a gulp from the goblet without looking inside. Instantly, she leaned forward and spewed the juice onto Draco's crisp white shirt.

"What is this?" She roared, glaring at Draco as though he had fed her poison.

Resisting the urge to flinch away from her raised voice, Draco replied, "Cranberry pumpkin juice." He had intended for it took come out as a statement, but as the words exited his mouth, they morphed into a kind of question.

He saw the witch's reaction coming the second before it happened. Her face turned a great shade of red as she launched said pumpkin juice at the boy's face. Draco jumped as the liquid splattered his face and clothing.

"You insolent boy!" She roared. The chatter in the room subsided almost instantly as the witch's shriek rang out. "Get me a glass of wine like I told you to and clean up this mess!" She threw the goblet at Draco as she continued to hurl angry words at the terrified looking boy.

He caught the cup with shaking hands and hurried back to the table, poured the wine, and collected towels to clean up the spilled drink. His hands continued to shake as he handed the cup back to the still seething witch.

The young Malfoy got down on his hands and knees and quickly began to mop up the rose colored juice off the marble. Conversation had begun to break out again as people brushed off the incident. Draco heard not-so-quiet-whispers that made his stomach drop.

"That's Malfoy's boy, isn't it?"

"And to think he's supposed to carry on the Malfoy legacy…"

"Poor Lucius. I can't imagine what it must be like to have a son as disgraceful as that."

Draco stood up sharply from the floor, satisfied that he had cleaned all he could. But in the few moments that he had been knelt on the floor, a few people had gathered around to see what all the commotion was about. Having been focused on his cleaning, Draco didn't notice the man standing right above him.

As Draco had stood up quickly, his head had collided with the plate the man was holding. It's contents of biscuits and tarts went flying and the man jerked back in surprise. His arm had pulled back reflexively and he managed to spill his goblet of wine all down his front.

Draco's eyes flew wide; now he'd done it.

"I–I–I'm so s-sorry!" He stammered in shock and fear. "I'm so so sorry!" He lunged forward in an attempt to help the man clean himself up, but in his panic he overestimated how close he was to the man and only succeeded in to knocking him backwards.

The man gave a sharp yell as he fell into a woman standing behind him which set off a chain of terrible events. Both the man and woman fell to the ground, but not before the woman had spilled her cup on the floor and grasped at a neighboring witch for balance.

A few people saw the trio falling and lunged forward to help, but they slipped on the spilled liquid and ended up falling themselves, all of them grasping at other witches and wizards to gain support. Before Draco knew it, there were tarts and biscuits and goblets (full or otherwise) flying through the air as witch after wizard found themselves suddenly meeting the marble floor.

Draco stared in horror, frozen in his spot, at the mess he had created.

People all around the room had stopped and turned to find out what was going on. There were angry shouts and surprised laughter coming from the rooms occupants who found themselves on the floor.

With less people blocking his view, Draco could see Harry across the room, his jaw slack and his eyebrows raised into his hairline.

But this sudden thinning of the crowd also meant Draco could see the one face of the person he wished dearly that he hadn't: Lucius Malfoy. And he was livid.

––––––––

"Of all the stupid, insolent, brainless–"

"But Mr. Malfoy," Harry interrupted, "it was an accident!"

Draco shot Harry a horrified look. Stupid Potter was only going to make this worse.

" _Silence_!" Lucius hissed over his shoulder. He had a firm hold on both Draco and Harry's wrists and was dragging them further and further away from the scene of the disaster.

"Have you any idea how embarrassing that was for me?" He snapped, giving Draco's wrist a particularly hard squeeze. Draco bit back a yelp at the pain flaring in his wrist. "Do you?" He squeezed again.

Draco stumbled as his father savagely yanked on his arm. "I'm sorry, Father! I didn't mean–"

"Enough! I don't want to hear another word out you – either of you!" Pure acrimony dripped from each word. He took a sharp turn and pulled the pair down a flight of stairs. Still in shock from what had happened, Draco barely noticed where they were going until they turned into a terribly familiar hallway.

"No, no, no, _no_ , _no_ , please, Father, _please_ don't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor–"

 _Smack_.

Lucius had suddenly rounded on his son and struck his hand across his cheek. The elder Malfoy's mouth was pressed into the tightest of lines and his jaw could have been made of steel.

If Harry's heart had been racing before, it was nothing compared to the way it was beating now. Lucius snatched ahold of Draco's wrist once more and continued on his rampage down the hall. Harry wasn't watching where they were going anymore.

Instead his eyes were fixed on reddening cheek of the pale haired boy next to him. He only looked ahead of him once they came to an abrupt stop. Mr. Malfoy released their wrists and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

They were stood in front of the giant floor to ceiling metal box Harry had discovered in his wanderings.

Lucius tapped his wand to the handle and pulled open the heavy door.

Beside Harry, Draco had begun to breath rather heavily.

"No…Father, please," he whispered. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say Draco was scared. No, not scared – _terrified_.

" _In_ ," the elder Malfoy commanded through clenched teeth.

"Please, Father! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Draco was beyond refusing at this point: he was pleading. He was visibly shaking, even in the low light of the corridor.

"I won't say it again, Draco." The candles cast a fearsome shadow over Lucius Malfoy's face as he lowered his chin and glared at his son. He looked about ready to murder his own son. Harry quickly grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him toward the box.

But Draco was surprisingly strong. He leaned away from Harry and dug his heels into the ground, refusing to be led into the box. Not wanting to incur more wrath from Mr. Malfoy, Harry hurried behind Draco and physically pushed him inside.

No sooner had Harry stepped inside the box than the door was closed and all sense of his surroundings disappeared.

There was a loud bang as Draco threw himself at the door and began to beat his fists against it. "Let me out! Please! Father, I'm sorry, just please let me out! Please!"

Harry jumped forward and pulled Draco away from the door, knowing that if the boy continued to hit the door like that, he was going to wind up hurting himself. Draco struggled as Harry's wrapped his arms around Malfoy's chest and heaved backwards.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Draco shrieked. His arms flailed as he struggled to get back to door.

"Malfoy, stop! You're going to hurt yourself! Ow!" He yelped as one of Malfoy's wildly flailing arms caught him in the face. "You're hurting me! Stop moving!"

Despite Draco's shouts and screams, Harry continued to backpedal until his back connected with the back of the cabinet. He tucked his chin into his shoulder as Draco continued to struggle and strain against him.

Harry didn't know how long they stayed like that until Draco eventually exhausted himself and his screams gave way to sobs. Harry released him and Draco immediately slouched down to the floor.

The young Malfoy pulled his knees up to chest, crossing his arms on top, and buried his face in them, his fearful sobs muted by arms. Harry slid down the wall and sat crisscross next to the boy. Not sure if he should comfort Malfoy or leave him be, Harry went with his gut instinct and stretched an arm over the Slytherin's shoulders.

He felt Malfoy flinch at the unexpected touch, but took it as a good sign that he didn't pull away.

So in the dark, the two boys sat, side by side. One offering comfort, the other taking what he so desperately needed.

And they waited.

––––––––

Please send me suggestions if there's something you want to see! I love hearing from you! Plus I'm running out of ideas…

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Here's another chapter! If you can't tell, I'm trying to make up for disappearing…

please don't hate me…

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

 **––––––––**

Draco didn't know how long he and Potter had sat on the floor of The Box, their breathing the only sound to be heard. Draco hated that he was here again. He knew it was his own fault, knew that he deserved it, but that didn't make it any more bearable.

When Dumbledore had pulled the two boys into his office to explain their new living situation, Draco had made a promise to himself then and there: that no matter how much he disliked Potter, he would do everything within his power to keep Harry away from the evils that lurked behind the walls of Malfoy Manor.

And yet, here was Potter, caught up in a punishment that he didn't deserve. Draco sighed heavily into his arms. His father was right: Draco really couldn't do anything right. Harry didn't deserve any of this. None of what happened tonight had been his fault.

"Potter?" Draco spoke suddenly, his head still buried in his arms.

"Yes?"

And before he lost his nerve, Draco said quickly, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry, what? I didn't quite catch that."

Draco's head snapped up. "I said, I'm sorry."

He turned his head to where he believed Harry to be sitting, if the pressure against his shoulder told him anything. There was a stunned sort of silence as Harry processed the words that had left Draco's mouth.

"I – Why are – I don't – um…"

Draco leaned his head against the cool metal of the back wall as Potter struggled to find his words.

"You don't have to be sorry," he finally managed. Draco scoffed sharply. "No, really," Harry continued. "What happened wasn't your fault. You didn't intend to knock all of the people over. It's not like you wanted it to happen."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Potter," the young Malfoy interrupted bitterly. "I'm sorry about the fact that you have to live here. I'm sorry that you couldn't go and live with your friends." Draco shot up to his feet, sudden anger bubbling in his chest.

"I'm sorry that you've had the misfortune of meeting someone as much of a screw up as me. I'm sorry that your summer's not going to be everything you had hoped it would be. I'm sorry that you had to meet my father." Draco was frantically pacing the few steps back and forth between the narrow walls.

Harry couldn't see Malfoy but, if the sounds of rushed footsteps and labored breathing were anything to go off of, he could tell the pale-haired boy was getting himself worked up again.

"I'm sorry that you had to learn what it's like to be treated like a house elf. I'm sorry that I didn't protect you and I'm sorry that you're here in this _stupid box_!" Harry jumped as what he guessed was Malfoy's foot connected with the door sending a resounding _boom_ throughout their entrapment.

There was a second, smaller _clang_ as Malfoy's knees connected with the floor. "I just… I'm sorry."

His voice sounded so broken, so guileless that Harry didn't quite know what to say. This was nothing like the snooty, pale-faced brat Harry had met in Madam Malkin's shop on his birthday. This wasn't the Malfoy that taunted Harry and his friends. This wasn't the Malfoy that Harry harbored a deep, gut loathing for.

This wasn't Malfoy at all; this was Draco.

"Draco…" He started, knowing he had the other boy's attention by the use of his first name. "You don't have to be sorry. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry." He heard Draco take a breath to retort, but he rushed on before the boy could say anything. "I shouldn't have judged you so quickly when we met. We got off to a bad start, but we're both to blame for that.

"You're not a screw up, Draco. That's… that's just your dad talking."

He heard Draco draw in a sharp breath, as though afraid the very man in question was about to appear.

"You shouldn't be sorry that I have to live here. I'm sorry that _you_ do. Does Dumbledore know about any of this? Does anyone?"

"No!" It was practically a shout. "No," he said again, lowering his voice, "no one knows. And no one's going to know," he said, intending to be threatening but instead coming off as almost pleading. "They can't know," he trailed off in a whisper.

"Draco–"

"No, Harry!"

Now it was Harry who was caught off guard by the use of his first name.

"You can't tell anyone. I don't care what you see or what you hear, you cannot tell a soul. It would only make things worse."

They lapsed into an stiff silence, the kind that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably. The kind where all there's left to do is think, but you'd rather do anything but.

Not able to bear the silence any longer, Harry spoke. "How long?" He asked quietly, knowing that the other boy knew exactly what he meant.

Draco drew in a deep breath before answering. "As long as I can remember. He once told me that he used to be proud to have a son, but, seeing as how I'm me, he says he's anything but. He says that I'm a disgrace to the Malfoy name, that I'm not worthy." Draco gave a scornful laugh.

"You don't believe him do you?" Harry asked, shocked that anyone would actually say that to their own child.

Draco snorted before answering. "Wouldn't you? If you heard that every week since you were a child?"

They lapsed back into silence. Harry began to wonder if he had learned the reason behind why Malfoy was the way he was. Perhaps he was cold and contemptuous at school because that's how his father was. Perhaps he was just trying to be a Malfoy the only way he knew how.

Harry's ears perked up at the sound of Draco resuming his pacing. Three steps right, pivot, three steps left, pivot, three steps right, pivot, three steps left, pivot…

On and on it went, for how long, Harry didn't know. The more Draco paced, however, the quicker his steps became. Soon three steps turned into two and two turned into one as Draco strode faster and faster between the walls.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked from his spot of the floor. The constant squeaking of Draco's shoes against the metal floor was beginning to make Harry's head hurt.

Draco didn't respond directly to Harry. Instead, he muttered something incoherent to himself, his frenetic pacing never ceasing.

"Draco?" Harry tried again. Still no answer. He wasn't entirely positive that Draco had heard him. Harry pushed himself to his feet as Malfoy's mumbling got louder.

"He'll let us out, he'll let us out. He's going to come back. He always comes back. He's going to come back."

Harry frowned at the pale-faced boy's ramblings. Was he talking about Lucius?

"Malfoy, would you stop for a minute?" He said, stepping forward into the line of Draco's pacing. The other boy gasped at the sudden obstruction in his path. He bounced backward and gasped again as his shoulders brushed the metal of the walls.

Draco rushed to where he knew the door to be and put his entire weight against it. "Move, move, move, move, move, move, move…" He muttered, as though the words repetition could cause the door to budge.

"What are you doing?" Came Potter's exasperated, yet slightly alarmed, voice.

The young Malfoy switched shoulders before once again directing the whole of his strength into trying to move the door.

"Don't just stand there, Potter. Help me," he grunted.

Confused as he was, Harry nonetheless placed his hands on the door and pushed. But the two boys were no match for the heavy steel.

"You're father probably sealed it with–"

There was a loud _bang_ as Malfoy's fist connected with the door.

"Don't, Malfoy!" Harry jumped forward to seize Malfoy for the second time that day. Draco was ready for Harry this time though. Even though he couldn't see the boy, Draco managed to duck and evade Harry's grasp.

Once he was sure that Potter was out of the way, he refocused his attention on the door. He had to get out, he had to.

"Let us out!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs as he pummeled the metal with rapidly swelling knuckles. He kicked and he shoved and he hit the door, but all to no avail.

"Please!" He begged. "Please, I can't breathe! There's not enough air! Please, I can't–"

He threw his back against the wall, desperately trying to drag in a breath. Draco felt the familiar feeling of the walls closing down all around him. The darkness surrounding him snuck a tenebrous hand around his throat and squeezed firmly.

He wheezed as a caliginous beast clamped its hands around his chest and constricted as a boa might. He dropped to his knees as the darkness began to laugh at him, mocking his weakness, welcoming him back into its shadowy embrace.

He whimpered as it whispered in his ear that he was never going to feel the sun warm his skin again. It told him of the all the ways he could perish there, with no one to save him, no one to miss him. But the it had forgotten one thing; there was another occupant in the box.

"Malfoy, can you hear me?"

Draco distantly recognized the voice as Potter's but was in no way capable of responding. His chest was still too tight, there wasn't enough air to breathe.

"Draco, you need to slow your breathing. Can you do that?" Harry's voice was strong, but Draco could detect the panic hidden just barely beneath the surface.

Knowing that what Potter was saying was sensible, Draco tried to take a deep breath but only ended up choking and gasping.

"That's okay. That's fine. Let's try again, yeah? Can you give me your hand?"

Slowly, Draco lifted a trembling hand and extended it in front of him. He jumped as Harry's hand found his. Harry guided his hand against something warm and alive.

"Try and copy my breathing," Harry implored. The boy began to take exaggerated slow breaths in and out, keeping Draco's hand pressed firmly against his chest.

He waited patiently as Draco struggled to match Harry's breathing, but eventually the gasps gave way to normal breaths and the normal breaths became deep.

"That's it," Harry encouraged. "You're going to be okay. There's plenty of air in here for the both of us. You're going to be fine."

They sat in the silence and just breathed for a minute or two before either of them attempted speak. It was Draco who spoke first. "Potter?" He said timidly, gently taking his hand back and sitting back on his heels.

"Yeah?"

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I saw Percy do it once for one of the second years. I thought it might help."

"Oh… Potter?

"Yes?"

"…Thanks."

"Anytime."

––––––––

It was hours before the door to The Box was opened. Draco lay curled on the floor next to Harry, who was still sitting upright, his back pressed against the back wall.

Draco sat up suddenly as the door swung open and feebly candlelight poured around the slender figure of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Mum," Draco breathed in relief. He stumbled his way into his mother's arms, burying his face in her soft robes of burgundy.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his soft blond hair. Harry stood and exited the confines of the box, forgetting what it was like to see the light. Even when he had lived in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's, there had still been light that inched through the slots of the vent and found its way through the cracks around the door.

There had been nothing but sheer darkness inside that container. It was no wonder Draco couldn't stand it in there; Harry himself was beginning to feel a little squirrelly in there.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Narcissa reached out to the black-haired boy as he stepped out into the cool air of the ground floor. Harry nodded reassuringly as she gently caressed his cheek, looking him over for an obvious signs of injury.

Satisfied that the boys were in no need of urgent care, Narcissa turned and began to sweep back up the hallway. Draco and Harry both followed quickly.

"How… how's Father?" Draco asked timorously. He turned apprehensive eyes up at his mother as they walked. Harry saw Mrs. Malfoy's shoulders tense slightly at her son's question.

She chose her words carefully before speaking. "Recovering," she said slowly. "He wishes to see you tonight in his study after supper," she said quieter still. Draco's steps faltered, his skin becoming a ghostly white as the blood drained away.

"Mother, please, please, don't make me go," he pleaded, trying and failing to keep the quaver from his voice.

"There's nothing I can do, Draco. I'm so sorry." Harry frowned as her hand clenched reflexively. It was only then that he noticed the vivid shades of violet and deep blue that mottled her wrist peeking out from her robes.

"Will you be there at least?" Draco continued, looking for some form of consolation, but finding none as Narcissa shook her had quickly.

Harry could hear the emotion in her voice as she said softly, "I'm so sorry, dragon."

Draco blinked furiously at the ground as Narcissa led them up a staircase and into the coruscating light of the noonday sun. They'd been down in the box longer than Harry had realized.

The young Malfoy ignored the cheery sun knowing full well that his day was going to anything but cheerful.

––––––––

Please send me suggestions if there's something you want to see! I love hearing from you! Plus I'm running out of ideas…

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** ANOTHER! This story will probably be coming to an end here shortly; we'll see how it goes… In the meantime, if you have any suggestions or ideas on where this story should go, I'd love to hear from you!

Hope you enjoy!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

 **––––––––**

"I spy with my little eye something that's… small and black."

Draco's eyes drifted listlessly around the room, searching for the object that would win him this round of I Spy. He and Harry had retreated to Draco's room after an unexciting lunch of ham with potatoes and gravy leftover from last night's party. Draco hadn't been able to eat much, the impending visit to his father's study looming over his head.

After lunch, Harry had done his best to keep Draco's mind occupied, asking him questions about what kind of books Draco like to read, whether he knew how to paint or draw, or if could he play any instruments (piano and harp, Harry learned).

When Harry had run out of questions, he had resorted to teaching Draco the Muggle children's game called I Spy. Draco had quite enjoyed himself at first, but as the hours wore on, he grew less and less fond of locating minuscule objects within his room.

So far, Draco was winning, much due to the fact that he was far more familiar with the room than Harry was.

The two were both lying on their backs, side by side, on Draco's grand four poster bed. Draco's eyes continued to the roam the room, stopping only when they fell on the desk in the corner.

"Is it my quill?" He drawled. The mattress bounced slightly as Harry shook his head back and forth. "Nope, try again."

"Umm… is it the door knob?"

"No."

Draco frowned and raked his eyes over the room again and, spotting a pair of his black shoes nestled next to the door, guessed again. But once more, he was wrong.

"Do you give up?" Draco didn't like the triumph in Harry's voice.

"Fine," he huffed. "What is it?"

He looked over at the black-haired boy as Harry raised a hand and point up the canopy above them. Draco followed his finger and could only just make out the wriggling shape of a small spider scuttling its way down on of the posts.

Draco scoffed at the unfairness of having to locate something so small and terribly hard to find. "How did you even see that?" He sneered at the bed's other occupant.

Harry smiled cheekily and tapped the rim of his glasses. "They didn't give me these for nothing," he said with a chuckle.

Malfoy rolled his eyes before looking back up to watch the spider's descent.

"Your turn, Malfoy."

They played the Muggle game until the sun's vibrant yellow began to deepen and painted the treetops crimson and rose.

Harry had just discovered Malfoy's something large and white when Mrs. Malfoy appeared in the doorway, the warm sunset tones accenting her high cheekbones and striking blue eyes.

Draco pushed himself up from his position on his stomach and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Is it time for supper?" He asked, feeling as though a ball of lead had been dropped into his stomach.

Narcissa nodded quietly, an unreadable expression on her face. "Come," she said with a wave of her hand. Draco and Harry scrambled off the bed and followed her wordlessly down into the dining room.

They sat in the exact spots that they had on Harry's first night there: Mrs. Malfoy to the right of the head, Draco to the left, and Harry on Draco's left. Mr. Malfoy's seat, however, remained empty.

Dinner was consumed in silence, the only sounds to be heard were when they sipped from their goblets and when they scraped the bottom of their soup bowls.

No one seemed to be very hungry, however. There was plenty of soup left in their bowls by the time Dobby came to clear it away. Harry felt bad for wasting so much uneaten food, but didn't think he could possibly stomach another bite.

They continued to sit in silence as Dobby whisked away their cups, napkins, and silverware. Harry twiddled his fingers underneath the table, unsure of if he was allowed to leave the table or not. He decided to wait and follow Draco's lead.

He'd almost forgotten why he'd spent the whole afternoon distracting Malfoy when Mrs. Malfoy made a gentle reminder that Draco needed to go to his father's study.

"Can't you come with me?" Draco asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the patterned tablecloth.

"You know I would if I had a choice," Narcissa said softly, ducking her head and trying to catch Draco's gaze.

Harry watched as Draco's jaw clenched reflexively as his eyes slid shut. Draco's skin usually had a chalky pallor to it but, now, he looked downright ghostly.

The young Malfoy slid off his chair and forced his leaden feet to carry him from the room. Harry chewed his lip momentarily, wondering if he should follow Draco or not. Instinct took over before Harry knew what was happening and he found himself scrambling out of his chair and taking off after Malfoy.

He caught up with Draco at the top of the staircase. Neither boy said a word as they walked along the corridors but Harry could feel the unspoken gratitude from Malfoy.

They went up one more flight of stairs and down another hallway before stopping in front of the great double doors of Lucius Malfoy's study. Draco took a unsteady breath, his hand jiggling nervously at his side.

"Malfoys are brave," whispered Draco. "Malfoys don't show fear. They don't show fear…"

He poised a fist to knock, his vision tunneling, this situation all too familiar.

"Malfoys are brave." Before his courage failed him, Draco knocked four times.

At his father's smooth come in, Draco shot a final uneasy look at Harry and disappeared behind the mahogany doors.

––––––––

Harry turned the page of ancient book on the table. He was sat in the one of the Malfoys' many libraries at a table with a book he had randomly pulled from a shelf. He hadn't really been paying much attention to it; something about ghouls and periwinkle flowers.

He kept shooting flustered glances at his watch, watching the minutes tick by at an unbearably slow rate. Draco had been in his father's study for almost three hours now. The sun had long since disappeared and the persistent stridulating of the crickets was in full effect.

Harry pushed back from the table with a sigh, his chair tipping back onto its hind legs. He turned his head to look out the window and watched the blinking yellow lights of the summer fireflies as they floated in and out of the open frame.

The chair legs slammed back onto the floor as Harry shifted his weight forward once more. Wood screamed against wood as the black-haired boy pushed away from the table. He got to his feet and began to pace up and down the shelves, looking at the titles but not truly seeing them.

Harry never thought he'd see the day where he was actually worried about Malfoy. He never thought he'd ever care enough to worry about him. Yet, something about the sheer terror Harry saw in Draco's face whenever Lucius Malfoy was around ignited a flame in Harry's chest that he usually reserved for his friends.

Oh, Merlin.

Was Draco his friend?

No, no, no. He couldn't be. The two hated each other. Absolutely detested the other's very existence. But there was something about what Malfoy had said last night in the box. Something about the sincerity of his multitude of apologies that made Harry's heart twist in his chest.

Sure, Draco had practically been a terror during their time at school but he wasn't bad. Not on his own. It was almost as if he had been conditioned to be that way. To treat everyone other than fellow Slytherins like nothing more than disgusting slum on the side of the road.

If Harry had been raised like Draco, he couldn't say for certain that he wouldn't've turned out the same. Yes, the Dursleys could be cruel and cold, but it was nothing compared to the way that Lucious Malfoy treated his son.

Harry was running his running his fingers over a set of black leather-bound books when he suddenly heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall.

"Harry?" A voice called, sounding anxious and upset.

Harry slipped out from between the shelves and made a beeline for the doorway. He was almost to it when Mrs. Malfoy appeared in the frame.

"Oh, Harry," she gasped breathlessly. Had she been running? "Harry, come quickly. We haven't much time."

And with that she whipped around and sped back down the hallway. Nonplussed, Harry took off behind her without question. Whatever it was that was happening clearly had her on edge. He followed Mrs. Malfoy around corners and down a few staircases before they returned to the set of mahogany doors that Harry found himself at far too frequently.

Instead of knocking at the doors however, Narcissa Malfoy barged straight through them and went straightaway to the stone hearth. She crouched down beside something Harry couldn't quite see. He stepped around Narcissa and didn't bother stifling his sudden gasp for there, lying bloodied, bruised, and unmoving, was Draco.

"Quick," said Narcissa, breaking snapping Harry's attention back to her, "fetch the floo powder from the mantel."

Harry looked up at the mantel overhead searching for the object in question. It took him a second to realize that he had no idea what he was even looking for.

"Floo powder?" He repeated uncertainly.

"The green vase," Mrs. Malfoy instructed as she began to gather Draco gently in her arms. She shushed him softly as the boy gave a whimper of pain at being moved. "Shh, Mummy's here, dragon, Mummy's here.

Harry snatched the green vase off of the polished wood and quickly returned to Mrs. Malfoy's side. Narcissa tipped her head towards the empty grate. "Toss in a bit and once you see the flames, step in," she said, as if standing in fire was a completely normal thing to do.

Knowing, however, that this was not the time for questions, Harry did as he was told. He grabbed a handful of the grey sand inside of the vase and forcefully tossed it into the fireplace. Immediately, fierce neon green flames burst up towards the chimney. Though the fire was large and roaring, Harry felt no heat coming from the grate.

Narcissa rose slowly from the ground, the limp form of her son held tightly in her arms. She strode directly into the flames, having to duck slightly to fit fully. Harry quickly followed her in.

"Hold onto my arm," she said firmly to which Harry obeyed immediately. The flames danced on their skin and robes, but they didn't burn. If anything, it was almost akin to a warm summer's breeze.

"Spinner's End!" Cried Narcissa and suddenly Harry's world was enveloped by a tornado of spinning green flames as his stomach dropped out beneath him. As they spun round and round, faster than Harry could follow, he caught glimpses of other fireplaces and found himself gazing into other people's homes for a mere fraction of a second.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Harry stumbled as his feet returned to solid earth and windmilled his arms wildly to regain his balance.

Narcissa Malfoy was already striding out of the fireplace and shouting for who Harry assumed was the house's owner.

"Severus!" She called, briskly striding towards the couch the rested in front of the very fireplace they had exited. "Severus!"

She lowered the battered son down onto the cushions, brushing back his hair as he gave yet another whimper. "I know, baby, I know," she whispered, kneeling by his side as she grasped the hand Draco had unwittingly extended.

"Severus!"

Severus? thought Harry. Surely she couldn't mean–

Professor Severus Snape came whisking around the corner, his robes flapping about in the batlike way that only his did.

Harry swallowed hard. If there was anyone in the world that he disliked more than the Dursleys, it was Hogwarts' Potions Master: Snape. Snape had it out for Harry since the very first lesson in September. Dumbledore had said it was because Snape had hated Harry's father, but Harry felt that wasn't completely true.

Snape had a sort of soft spot for Malfoy and Harry wondered if it was because Draco's parents were on friendly terms with the man.

"You can't be here," Snape hissed as he swept around the couch and knelt beside Narcissa, completely ignoring Harry.

"Severus, please, I can't heal him at home. I don't have the supplies." She swiped a thumb over a rapidly purpling bruise on Draco's cheekbone. "It's never been this bad before," she breathed. "I swore I'd protect him from this, I swore." Tears had began to well up in her pale blue eyes. "I've failed him, Severus," she said, her voice hitching as she spoke.

Snape rose to his feet, pulling the bitterly weeping woman up with him. "You cannot be here," he repeated. "You need to return home immediately." He swept over to the fireplace and snatched a jar not unlike the one at the Malfoy's off the mantelpiece and thrust it into Harry's hands.

The tall man hurried back over to the couch, scooped up Malfoy, and hurried back to the fireplace, Narcissa trailing behind him. "I don't understand, Severus," she said, taking her son back from the man as she stepped into the great.

"I'll send supplies as soon as I have a chance, but you must understand that this is not where you should be."

"Alright, but _why_? Please, Severus, you're the only one who can help."

The answer to Narcissa's question of 'why' suddenly swooped around the corner.

There, with eyes alight with unconcealed ire, was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry heard Mrs. Malfoy's gasp and groan of, " _No_." And before he knew what he was doing, Harry had plunged his hand into the jar, cast the powder into the grate, and shouted "Malfoy Manor!" with all his might.

In an instant, Snape's home had disappeared in a flurry of smoke and green flames.

––––––––

Please send me suggestions if there's something you want to see! I love hearing from you!

Thanks for reading! Drop me a review if you've got the time!


End file.
